Hallo, für eine besondere Aktion brauche ich möglichst viele Reime und Limericks zum Thema W650 und Motorrad fahren allgemein. Lasst Euch also von der Muse küssen und schreibt mir Eure Ideen.Es reichen mir auch einfache Wortkombinationen. Ich stelle das dann alles zusammen und lasse Euch am Endergebnis teilhaben.
Danke,
Claudia

Hallo,

da gab es mal im alten Forum unter der "Langnese drive" (gell Paule) mal den einen oder anderen poetischen Unfall. Dank der Suchfunktion habe ich's doch tatsaechlich gefunden. Vielleicht hilfts ??

von emjey Info am 26.Nov.2002 11:05 (vorlesen)

Wohl Wahr. . .

Was Wird Wohl Werden, Wenn Wir Wunschnamen Wie Werner, Walter, Wichtel, Waehlen Wuerden ?

Weibliche Ws Wie Wilma, Waltrauds Wuerden Weniger Wehklagend Wohlig Weiter Wollen ?

Wie Wunderbar, Wenn Ws Wirklich Wollen !

Womit Wir Wohl Weiter W Wandeln, W wie W.
Wird Wahrscheinlkich Wahr Werden, Wenn Winters Weisse Wolken Winken . . .

Was Wollen Wir Wirklich ? Weiter W Wandeln !

Wohl Wahr . .

There was an old man from Dover,
who rode his W into the clover.
That happened near by Silverstone,
where he almost found his final home
right after the ride was over.

... oder so...
-------
Etwas besser würde sich's reimen, wenn er statt der W einen Rover gefahren wäre, aber das ist eine andere Geschichte.

Hallo Claudia! Fühle mich angesprochen und hisse bei dieser Gelegenheit die
Home-again-Flagge. Meine erste Arbeitswoche nach einem schönen Urlaub hat mich
ziemlich gequält, da war ich abends (wo ich meistens mal ins Forum schaue)
nicht gut drauf. Naja, wird schon wieder. Gedichte kommen später - oder isses eilig?
Gibt´s in nächster Zeit nochmal ein Treffen?

Gelabert wird woanders!

.......where he almost found his final home,
the race bring him into his FUNERAL!

So Ace-Boy, race, race to die,
don`t ask him why,
cause he`s a CAFE BOY!

Too Old to Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young to Die

The old Rocker wore his hair too long,
wore his trouser cuffs too tight.
Unfashionable to the end --- drank his ale too light.
Death's head belt buckle --- yesterday's dreams ---
the transport caf' prophet of doom.
Ringing no change in his double-sewn seams
in his post-war-babe gloom.

Now he's too old to Rock'n'Roll but he's too young to die.

He once owned a Harley Davidson and a Triumph Bonneville.
Counted his friends in burned-out spark plugs
and prays that he always will.
But he's the last of the blue blood greaser boys
all of his mates are doing time:
married with three kids up by the ring road
sold their souls straight down the line.
And some of them own little sports cars
and meet at the tennis club do's.
For drinks on a Sunday --- work on Monday.
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes.

Now they're too old to Rock'n'Roll and they're too young to die.

So the old Rocker gets out his bike
to make a ton before he takes his leave.
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
just like it used to be.
And as he flies --- tears in his eyes ---
his wind-whipped words echo the final take
and he hits the trunk road doing around 120
with no room left to brake.

And he was too old to Rock'n'Roll but he was too young to die.
No, you're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die.

Die Schotten fahren nicht nur links, ihr Herz schlägt auch dort

Here is my contribution:

There was a school-teacher of Vienna,
who had a two meter long tenner.
For to bend this huge thing
he was put on a ring
just to practice what's the age-old manner.

Hat zwar nicht direkt mit der W 650 was zu tun.
Von gut unterrichteten Greisen weiss ich aber,
dass SEINE Frau WALTRAUD hieß.

PAULE,
der Limer-verrickte.

..................................................
Mein BOBBY-CAR ist garnicht aus PVC.

wenn du auch songtexte brauchst darf das nicht fehlen (das "silver-black phantom bike" ist wahrscheinlich die W von skoki )

Meat Loaf

Bat Out Of Hell

The sirens are screaming, and the fires are howling
Way down in the valley tonight.
There's a man in the shadows with a gun in his eye
And a blade shining oh so bright.
There's evil in the air and there's thunder in the sky,
And a killer's on the bloodshot streets.
And down in the tunnels where the deadly are rising
Oh, I swear I saw a young boy down in the gutter
He was starting to foam in the heat.

PRE-CHORUS
Oh, baby you're the only thing in this whole world
That's pure and good and right.
And wherever you are and wherever you go
There's always gonna be some light,
But I gotta get out, I gotta break out now
Before the final crack of dawn.
So we gotta make the most of our one night together
When it's over, you know,
We'll both be so alone.

CHORUS
Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes.
When the night is over, like a bat out of hell, I'll be gone, gone, gone.
Like a bat out of hell I'll be gone when the morning comes.
But when the day is done
and the sun goes down
and the moonlight's shining through.
Then like a sinner before the gates of Heaven
I'll come crawling on back to you.

I'm gonna hit the highway like a battering ram
On a silver-black phantom bike.
When the metal is hot, and the engine is hungry
And we're all about to see the light.
Nothing ever grows in this rotting old hole,
And everything is stunted and lost.
And nothing really rocks, and nothing really rolls,
And nothing's ever worth the cost.

Well I know that I'm damned if I never get out,
And maybe I'm damned if I do,
But with every other beat I've got left in my heart,
You know I wanna be damned with you.
If I gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
Dancing through the night with you/
Well if I gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned,
Gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
Gotta be damned, you know I wanna be damned
Dancing through the night,
Dancing through the night,
Dancing through the night with you

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS

Well I can see myself tearing up the road
Faster than any other boy has ever gone.
And my skin is raw, but my soul is ripe,
And no one's gonna stop me now, I'm gonna make my escape.
But I can't stop thinking of you,
And I never see the sudden curve until it's way too late.
And I never see the sudden curve until it's way too late.

Then I'm down in the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun,
Torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike,
And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell.
And the last thing I see is my heart, still beating,
Breaking out of my body and flying away
Like a bat out of hell.

Then I'm down in the bottom of a pit in the blazing sun,
Torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike,
And I think somebody somewhere must be tolling a bell.
And the last thing I see is my heart,
Still beating..still beating...
Breaking out of my body, and flying away
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell...
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell
Like a bat out of hell........

Don't drink and post

Ton up boy

Old man used to say: relax - the way is the aim
I let them tell but I´m in the mood for a game
Who will be the winner - there can be only one
The weapon is my bike I don’t need no gun
drop bars and tank made of alloy
In my black leather suit I’m a ton up boy

Let’s go let’s go let’s go to the same old place
To the temple of the rockers - called the ACE
C’mon c’mon c’mon let’s check up the pace
The road is ours we are ready for the race

Drop a coin into the jukebox and turn the music on
Guitars riffs and the drum beats can’t be wrong
Hurry up and get your bike to race the streets along
Will you be back and listen to the end of the Rock’n’Roll song?
Be careful guys my bike is not a toy
I’m a real café racer – I’m ton up boy

CHORUS

One kick only and the engine starts to run
The first gear in - now we’re gonna have some fun
The second one shoots you like cannon ball
Two gears higher to break the ton up wall
Faster and faster speed is my only joy
Hundred miles per hour - ´cause I’m ton up boy

CHORUS

I was born to race and I will race to die
Tonight’s the night and through the streets I fly
I rip up the gas I will not be the last
My life is a race fullspeed not half fast
The pipes are screaming with a awful noise
Grip the handles stronger - we are ton up boys