Shed Song

When my plugs refuse to fire
When my mag has lost its spark
When my crank is bent and broken
When my lights have all gone dark
When my gears have all been stripped
When there's nothing from my coil
When my clutch has lost its grip
When my sump has dumped its oil
Don't rush me to the hospital
And park me in a bed
Just dress me in my overalls
And haul me to my shed

There's my lathe, and there's my drill press
Service manuals nicely stacked
Bikes are clean, freshly serviced
All my tools neatly racked
Lots to do, always something
In the place I best belong
Life is short and filled with woe
Mercifully, death is long

No monument need mark my spot
No grieving hearts, no funeral drum
If epitaph is ever needed:
"Average bloke, still having fun"

And if perchance in later years

You think of me, then do this pray

Knock but once the door of memory

Smile and quietly walk away

So shut off the ignition
When I've carburetted my last breath
Life has always kept me busy
And busy will I be in death
But lo! Just keep the quacks away
No medicines or pills be fed
Just dump me where my ghost belongs
Nil by mouth, and all by shed

—Danny DeFazio