Olympics in Dorking

When the cyclists come through Dorking

They'll do so at a speed 

that's probably illegal 

At least those in the lead

They'll shoot round Pump Corner 

As a speeding, flashing bunch

While we watch for a moment 

And then go back to our lunch

We'll raise a cheer, they'll raise some dust

Don't get some in your eye

No. Watch the wall my darling as the peloton goes by.

 

It's not the kind of cycling I'm minded to attempt

They're fast and slick and furious

I'm slower, more unkempt

I like to struggle up the hill 

to Peaslake for some tea

And chat to other bikers who are resting just like me

Can't stop too long, don't want a chill

So off again up Holmbury Hill

 

I might stop in the Hurtwood Arms, for food of course, not beer

Or gently cycle down the road to grab a bite in Shere

And downhill, pedalling furiously, and looking for a thrill

I’ll go as fast as they do when they’re racing up Box Hill  

 

When the cyclists come through Dorking, the whole town will turn out

Because they’re keen or just to ask ‘what’s all the fuss about?’

They’ll see a feast of lycra, not a sight to please the eye

So it’s watch the wall my darling as the peloton goes by