The Mundaring Weir Road Race
Come all you lovers of speed and great pace,
To enjoy the spectacle of the Sunday car race,
Forget your sleep-in and street marketplace,
This Sunday obsession is right out of space!
The race to Mundaring is loaded with thrills,
And It starts up at Coles at the top of the hill,
A short pit-stop enables these drivers to fill,
Their tanks for the race, with a potential to kill!
Spectators are warned to take proper cover,
As these mindless maniacs, just love to burn rubber,
Ignoring the rules, as they have discovered,
The road is their playground and rules can be buggared,
Including the residents whose nerves are a flutter!
Off to Mundaring the racers now go!
Ignoring the white crosses who plead to go slow,
Or the signs on the road, they simply won’t know,
Where death is instant, and halts one’s life’s flow!
Approaching the Weir Lodge the racers now speed,
Ignoring the white crosses as their brains now feed,
On the sounds of exhausts, as if as in a dream,
And on to the Wear Lodge their tires do scream!
Off to Mundaring the pace never slows,
Engines running hot with exhausts now aglow,
With nary a thought that an engine may blow,
Off to Mundaring these hoons now go!
What is the prize for this illegal street event,
Are harsh consequences any real deterrent?
Or crushing the cars, they should now be sent,
Off to the scrap yard with everything bent!
We the residents on the Mundaring Weir Race,
Wonder what laws can stop this mad pace,
To leave us to enjoy our Sunday morn grace,
Or will electrics now save, Our quiet peaceful place!
Watto!
This post proudly presented by Liz & John’s Seven Day Pet Grooming Service
