He was a tour de force,
In the Tour de France;
he had to dance
to his chance;
and, without a backward glance,
he won!
The Sun shone upon him,
then he was gone!
Nobody knew his name,
nobody knew his fame;
I couldn’t even award him the cup,
or the winners medal,
nor the jersey, yellow –
he just had to pedal
back to Kent,
from whence he’d come;
and I was left speechless,
gobsmacked,
dumb.
