August is upon us,
Special month of the year,
The ferry is booked,
The excitement is building sheer.
One\'s, two\'s and whole clubs,
Ten inch wheels all turning,
On the right track baby,
All roads have a southern yearning.
Bank Holiday weekend,
Look across from Southsea,
Scooter Island is calling,
Ryde is the place to be.
Custom paint artwork,
And gleaming chrome engraved,
Peacock Lambrettas,
Barn found Vespas saved.
Rats and rusterations,
Darksiders and skellies,
Mohair tonic suits,
Doc Martens and tattooed beer bellies.
Music on every corner,
Soul, ska and maximum R&B,
And the intoxicating blue haze hanging,
Like a fog in off the sea.
Runs to Sandown and Shanklin,
A cold paddle on the beach,
Drinking the island dry,
Dancing well into dawn\'s reach.
Collapsing into your hotel room,
Or your holiday caravan rent,
Or get up to naughties,
In your all but public tent.
The biggest rally in the world,
Is still so hard to beat,
If you ride a GS scooter,
With your hair cut neat.
It\'s a scooter thing,
You might not understand!