Mick in the night astride Kathleen's bike
He sails through the town never wearing a frown
The air may be cool but he's a pedaling fool
Did he remember his pants? Too late to glance!
Feels the breeze through his hair, even down there!
The women they stare at this bare bottomed bear
A grooming he needs to ride half nude into Leeds
He captains this bike a true hirsute delight
Toward the first pub he sees where he'll drink 'till he pees
They behold him askance as he does his lewd dance
As now off of his bike his shlong in full sight
Mick parades through the crowd his flatulence loud
A toast he doth raise to his bicycling days
Blows a kiss to Kathleen, who will soon cut out his spleen
(Brought to you by ChatGPT and the Committee to Elect Ron DeSantis)
