THE BIKESHED BUILDING

Far away in distant ages
Long before the days of Tomi,
Came to school the tribe of Uish
On their ancient penny-farthings,
On their shaky penny-farthings;
Them they laid beneath a bikeshed,
In a bikeshed dark and gloomy,
Which in early days was builded.
Few there were who came in this wise,
For in those far day of He-Men,
Came on foot the lusty Uish,
Trudged through miry path and by-lanes
To their labours and their pastimes.

In those days of Record Raleighs,
Glistening with their nickel plating
Fitted with expanding hub-brakes,
Fitted with a three-speed gear change,
Much too lovely to be ridden,
Gazed upon with eyes of envy
By the owners of the gridirons,
By the riders of boneshakers
Tied with string and held with wire,
Much too crowded grew the bikeshed
For their speedy steeds of iron.

In the yard and in the portals,
In the passages they left them,
Till at length the Chief grew anxious,
Raised his old face to the heavens,
Raised his voice in warning accents:
"See the sky grows dark and lowering,
Fast the tempest will be brewing,
For it is the rainy season.
We be safe within our wigwams,
But our mustangs need protection
From the downpour and the torrent."

Then called he upon a chieftain,
Called upon the brave Per-lee-so,
Teacher of the tribe in woodcraft.
Deft and cunning were his fingers,
With the plane and with the chisel,
With the hammer and the hacksaw.
Forth he strode that handsome red-skin,
Smoothed his locks and twirled his whiskers,
Chose with care his band of workers
Who would build a spacious bikeshed
To protect those steeds of iron.

Loudly cried the bold Per-lee-so,
"Give me of your wood, O Tomi,
Of your stoutest lengths of timber,
Of your deal and of your whitewood,
That we may a bikeshed build us."
Then the hoary Tomi trembled,
For his precious wood he treasured,
And to waste he was reluctant;
Yet replied in accents tender,
"Take my wood and take my timber;
All I have is yours to borrow
For such purpose wise and useful."
"Give me of your nails O Hawkses,
Give me of your bolts and staples
Of your shiny corrugated,
For to make a roof above us."
And the Hawks said, "We will give you
Bolts made of the finest iron,
Nails and staples wrought with fire,
Corrugated thick and shiny,
That the bikeshed may be solid,
That the roof shall keep the rain out."
Then they brought him baulks of timber
Brought him bags of nails and staples,
Brought him pipes and lengths of shuting,
That the water might be drained off
When the tempest raged the fiercest.

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Then he chose his band of skilled-men,
Each an expert at his business;
Wallah-wallah, chief of paint-men,
Who could daub in gaudy colours;
Linel-eewins, hefty strong-man,
He who poised upon his shoulder
Mighty beams of seasoned timber;
Chinkie-gaga, from the Orient,
He the merry mischief-maker,
Skilled in idle jests and wise-krax;
Hurdi-kee-wis, famed for fishing,
Hooking whales or hooking minnows
From the broad canal at Bathpool.

Soon he called them to a pow-wow,
Bade them meet in solemn pow-wow,
Gave them each a special duty
Showed them all the plans for building,
Showed them all just how to do it.
First the dexterous Per-lee-so,
Took his rule and took his compass,
Measured off to tenths of inches,
Where each beam should be erected.
Sprightly fell they to their labours,
Set about them with much vigour,
Upright placed the baulks of timber,
Sank them well beneath the surface,
Held them firmly with the staples
Hammered deep into the brickwork.
When the framework was completed,
Linel-eewins, mighty heaver,
Flung the sheets of corrugated
To the waiting Chinkie-gaga,
Who upon the crossbeams nailed them
With such uproar and such clatter
That the people in the wigwams
Held their ears and cried for mercy;
That the watcher in the forest,
In the lone and silent forest,
Raised his head in startled wonder
At the swelling stunning hubbub.

But the joker, Chinkie-gaga,
Looking down beneath the roofing,
Spied the simple Hurdi-kee-wis,
Dreaming of his pike and congers
Dreaming of his fishing exploits,
Unsuspecting any mischief.
Down he dropped his heavy hammer
Down upon that curly top-knot,
And the fisher jumped in anguish,
For the blow from dreaming roused him,
Laid him prostrate on the pavement,
Till they fetched a draught of water,
Bandaged up the achhing forehead,
Brought him back from his oblivion.

When the work was all completed,
Soon they called the tribe to pow-wow,
Called the chief to give his blessing,
Called on Tomi to inspect it.
And they held a sumptuous banquet
In the brave Per-lee-so's honour,
Placed his name upon a tablet,
That his mem'ry should be lasting,
That he should not be forgotten
As the builder of the bikeshed.