| Bill you were a friend of mine
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| A gentleman indeed
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| On your two wheeled steed
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| Did you ever cry?
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| Did you laugh at our pettiness
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| With your pump and tyre tight
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| You left us with a bump in the night
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| Bill was hard to understand
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| A language of his own
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| A man so much alone, no family
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| He was on to something
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| His joy was plain to see
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| I wish he could have passed it on to me
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| Bill had no funeral
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| He’s just a ghost today
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| His pump was his tombstone
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| They threw his Buckled Bicycle away
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| The little town closed ranks
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| The constable was wise
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| The driver drowns his sorrows
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| When he turns out the light
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| He still hears the bump in the night
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| Drink another brandy boys
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| And pour another beer
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| After all he was a simpleton
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| Was he really here?
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| Plant him in the limestone
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| With his little bag of gear
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| Keep his pump, that’s okay
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| Just throw his Buckled Bicycle away
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| A vivid boyhood memory
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| I can’t forget the day
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| This will be his epitaph
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| They threw his Buckled Bicycle away |