The Bliss of the Hereafter

The day after the bike-athon
After the half-marathon
That’s when you’ll find me
No designated cycleway
No promise of a sunny day
That’s all behind me

I need Betjeman pills
I’ve been summoned by bills

Comedy, tragedy
Neither much appeal to me
Nor pathos or farce
Trying to get a trestle table
Back off Beth Tweddle
Such a pain in the arse

I use obvious rhyme
When I haven’t much time

One fine day in the middle of the night
One fine day, I will pedal out of sight

To the safety of familiar things
I look to throw a grappling hook
It always falls short
Whitbread big head
Trophy Bitter
The pint that thinks it’s a quart

I’ve done 10,000 steps
I’ve reached Stygian depths

One fine day, while you’re gassin' at the gate
There’ll be bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

Happy time!

One fine day as I pedal out of sight
One fine day in the middle of the night

There’ll be bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait
Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait
Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait
Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait

(Whitbread big head Trophy Bitter)
Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait
(Whitbread big head Trophy Bitter)
Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait
(Whitbread big head Trophy Bitter)
Bubbles on the surface of the Bering Strait
The pint that thinks it’s a quart