As the first grey light of morning revealed an icy dawn,
I climbed upon my bicycle: its tyres and brakes well-worn,
But a brand-new woollen cosy I placed upon my seat
To keep at bay the wintry air, and help keep in the heat.
Oh wondrous manufacture! Ingenious idea!
A stylish saddle-cover to insulate my rear!
No more the frosty blasts feared I; no more the arctic weather
Would be a cause, however foul, to hinder my endeavour.
So off I set, astride my steed, and straight away I knew
However low the temperature, my lips however blue,
That my buttocks were protected, besat upon this fleece
And never more would frost-nipped cheeks my ped'ling cause to cease.
Away! And down the hill I flew, the fields all white around;
And white steam rose from a herd of deer, and crows pecked frozen ground.
I set my course toward the West, across the 505,
And though all about was frozen still, I felt the warmest man alive.
The frost it gripped the earth all day, the sun it never shone,
But never once I grumbled while my backside perched upon
This miraculous invention, this draw-string'd, snug device:
Let the weather do its worst to me, the wind let it blow twice
As strong and fierce and bitter, still its penetrating chill,
As I pedalled 'cross the country, to my rump could do no ill:
Through Herts and Cambs and Beds and Warks, West Midlands and Northants -
The warmest parts within me were the parts within my pants.
The honest folk at Ashwell, each still warmly wrapped in bed,
Had they woken would have marvelled as through their little town I sped
Past their gables hung with icicles, their step-stoned pond iced o'er,
To see me still unfrozen, as the mercury sank lower.
So onward I to Hinxworth, up and over the A1
And down again the other side to Langford - Oh, the fun
Of racing on my bicycle between the hoary trees
Off the ridge to Cardington, my legs a blur of knees
Pumping, piston-like, my pedals, leaving Bedford in my wake
Heading northward now, through Bromham, and on my right, a lake
Upon whose frozen surface the geese ungainly slid
But my woollen mat beneath me kept me warm as 'twere a lid.
Easton Maudit, Castle Ashby, the villages slipped by
Then Cogenhoe and Houghton and Northampton seemed to fly
Past my wheels, shrouded still in wisps of white
Fog and ice that now, at noon, had long outlived the night.
I stopped to eat my picnic lunch - my strength from hunger waning -
Now as I munched my frozen sandwiches my buttocks were complaining,
For my trusty bottom-warmer coddled still my cycle's seat
And the iron bench I lunched upon drew out too fast the heat.
So I wolfed my vittles quickly as cold numbness seeped to bone,
And soon through Daventry's broad avenues I rushed on fleecy throne,
And I pedalled through the still chill air, my feeling now restored
Past Industry's great bastions: Rail Freight Terminal, and Ford.
Then to Staverton and Shuckburgh, and Napton-on-the-Hill,
Long Itchington and Offchurch, up to Leamington, until
My journey's end at last drew near, as the brief day's light was fading,
And the darkness of another night my icy road was shading.
Yet past Kenilworth to Beausale the last long miles stretched out,
And as the cold wind blew through Dorridge, I knew beyond a doubt
That without this soft and warming rug to place beneath my bum
On such a day I never would have made it home to Brum.
So glory be to Stella, who invented this delight!
And glory be to Emily G, who correctly guessed it might
Make the perfect Christmas present to invert the chilly cyclist's frown.
What's more: my bike in sheepswool clad 's now the smartest one in town.
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