RIP great Joey Dunlop..

the unfortunate thing is we will be saying the same thing in 8 years a bout his wee brother!

fastandy wrote:

QUOTE:
the unfortunate thing is we will be saying the same thing in 8 years a bout his wee brother!

and god only knows who else....

Nice poem wacey

RIP

Eight years already. Time does pass by so fast. I remember coming home and telling my mother about it to which see replied..
"My generation will always remember were we were when JFK was shot now your generation will always remember were they were when joey passed away".
some comparison but he was held in the highest regard by fans and general public alike.

BORN TO BE KING.

He was born to be king, king of the roads,
On two wheels he courted disaster,
When forcing the issue he could not be beat
The wee-man was born to be master.

Be it two stroke or four, twin barreled or more,
The breed of machine won no pardon,
He tweaked and tuned by the light of the moon
In his shed at the end of the garden.

When dawn came around he still could be found
In duds that were oil stained and tattered
With a fag in his gob as he surveyed the job
Being prepped for the task is what mattered.

Then away up the road like a shot from a gun
He was off to test out his endeavor
Both man and machine in a tantrum of speed
As they tasted each others displeasure.

Wee man and machine giving all they got
With no punches held into the bargain
To pinpoint the cause of what might be classed
As cracks in their unitized armour.

Two halves of one unit joined at the seat,
Vying each other for valour and zest
Proverbially speaking, two masters in arms
About to engage in the ultimate test.

The big dashing Honda with fairings sublime
And a powerplant to daunt the weakhearted
The wee man with tresses blowing wild in the wind
And a glint in his eye that would startle.

She was handsome alright like no other bike
With titanium holding her steady
A long wheelbase frame that bore Curly’s name
She was raunchy and stylish and heady.

The dashing young pair could be found anywhere
That a championship field needed lacing.
The took on the best as well as the rest
And taught them the art of road racing.

Meanwhile to the island he carried his trade
And began a campaign of enrapture
The King of the Mountain, the titled he earned
And the hearts of her people he captured.

Yes they loved him as if he was one of their own
They were charmed by his nonchalant nature
When he scorched round their circuit he thrilled them to bits
He was a truly magnificent racer.

Twenty six tourist trophies they lauded on him,
Ant the sword that would deem him their champion,
Immortalized hero of racing folklore,
He will reign in their legend and anthem.

The Balkan war impacted on his conscience,
He took up the plight of countless starving orphans,
Packed his van with food, clothes and medical provisions
Then set off to play his part on his one man mercy missions.

He was forty-eight when he lost his life in Estonia
Far away from the glens and his loved ones in Ballymoney.
The tragic news that broke our hearts is a nightmare not to savour,
When men pit their wits against odds not in their favour.

So come on you would be Kings
Before you take the sport up,
Before you praise yourselves and spread your wings
You will always be measured to JOEY DUNLOP.

THE KING OF THE ROAD FOREVER ALWAYS REMEMBERING.