My grandma bought a motorbike
She’s only eighty eight
She wanted to try it out
Before it gets too late
We didn’t mind the motorbike
But the leathers had us in stitches
She wanted to do it right
But the logo was “ hells bitches”!
Then she went and formed a gang
The average age was eighty two
They would rev the bikes outside the pub
It was closer to the loo
They had this particular game
Took young men by surprise
When they got a well placed Zimmer frame
Straight between the eyes
One motorbike had a wheel chair
Strapped to the side
93 year old mad Beryl sat in there
Along for the ride
She was the moll of Bertie Titus
Who at the age of seventy two
Despite his advance arthritis
Was the youngest of the crew
Then their was evil Ant
We thought was grannies guy
He had a droopy seventies moustache
And an eyepatch over one eye
He has a talking parrot as a pet
And a peg leg too
He reminds me of someone maybe I’ve met
I just can’t think who..
The neighbourhood sadly reports
It wasn’t for the best
Seeing grannie in her tight leather shorts
And a low cut vest
They complained to the authorities
And “help the aged” as well
Who made it the police priorities
To round up this gang from hell
The police went to break up the gang
They didn’t expect a chase
The octogenarian’s decided to go out with a bang
And chose to have a race
Around the block the bikes wobbled away
A race not for the scared or the meek
The winner finished later that day
The rest slightly later that week
The policemen decided to take chase
And after a bit of a talk
They didn’t bother with the car
It was easier to walk
All were captured and locked away
In the old folks home
So now they know that crime don’t pay
As much as bingo in the hippodrome