My folks gave me a tricycle, for Christmas ’54,

Course, it was a second-hand one, we were fairly poor,

Dad was gonna paint it, but it wasn’t meant to be,

I had no love of colours, and the rust was fine by me.

One pedal had no rubber and it had a crooked wheel,

The seat was hard and weathered and had lost that leather feel,

But I thought it was splendid and it made my world complete

As every day I rode my magic trike along our street.

Oh, yes, that trike was magic, more than any witches’ brew,

No wizard’s wand could conjure up the things that it could do,

Each time I sat upon the seat the world would fade from me,

I’d ride into the places only four-year-olds can see.

My horse would snort and shiver as the battle lines were drawn,

Two armies facing death across a thousand-meter lawn,

I’d shout out “Charge!” and lead the men into the mad melee,

How they’d cheer as I rode in, and always saved the day.

I turned the shields to full, the lasers firing at my back,

The Zurkons had been hiding and they’d launched a sneak attack,

I switched it into stellar drive and warped around behind them,

And phased them to dimension X where nobody else would find them.

Von Richthoffen was squarely in the crosshairs of my gun,

I’d laid a clever ambush hiding high up in the sun,

He spiraled Earthward, black smoke drifting slowly into space,

I headed for my airfield, to the chaps who called me “Ace.”

I’d shout “All hands on deck, you swabs, make every inch of sail!”

A merchantman was running fast, across the starboard rail;

I, Captain Blood, would run it down, I’d bring them to their knees,

My Jolly Roger relayed fear across the seven seas.

I lay down low, along my horse, to make the target small,

The arrows flew around me and I heard the whooping call;

A hundred mad Apache braves, oh, what was I to do?

Ride like hell, across the West, the mailman must get through.

I put my whip away, I’d never hit this thoroughbred,

We still can win this race if I ride hands and heels instead,

Around the final turn I nudge him up another place,

Hear the crowd all cheering at the post – I win the race!

Oh, yes, that trike was magical, and now that I have grown,

I still recall adventures that a boy had on his own;

And sometimes when life closes in, well, nearly every day,

I wish I had my tricycle, so I could ride away.