Hondas and Suzukis from distant Orient
Humming up the motorway at seventy miles an hour,
With mirrors and winkers and overhead camshafts,
Superlube, electric start and paddy field tyres.

Bee-Em-Dubs and Jawas going home to native lands,
Tackling the touring with an air on confidence,
With passports, green cards, foreign phrase books,
Travellers cheques, route maps and camping carnets.

Dirty British motorbikes from factories down the road,
Leaking out oil on a pot holed street.
With silent horns and dim lights and squeaky standard brakes,
Ape hangers, transfers and megaphone exhausts.

Apologies to Masefield