The Silent Grey Fellow

By Wild Bill
Copyright © 1996 all rights reserved

I found her within an old barn stall
Beneath a decade of hay.

Though covered with droppin's from barnyard hens
I said, "sold" just as she lay.

As I gazed at her ancient saddle
I wondered about her life's work.

The farmer told me he rode her but once
Due to a minor quirk.

Seems the fellah who had her before him
Passed on 'bout forty years back,

He rode her through two wars a depression,
And a wreck where he lost the hack.

I asked the farmer to be candid
About the "quirk" of which he had told.

He said, "I guess it don't matter no more,
You bought it, it's yours, it's sold!"

"That fellah who bought her out of the crate,
Loved her beyond all reason.

He rode her all over the country side
Regardless of weather or season.

I heard tell on the day of his passing
He died right there on the seat.

His hands clamped to the handlebars
On the footboards rested his feet.

By all evidence he'd been there a couple of days
To remove him took all it was worth.

I was told as they labored to get him off,
He wore an expression of mirth.

Now I've never been one to believe in
Spirits or reincarnation,

But on the one day I rode that bike
I was shaken to my foundation.

When I got the bike home, I started her up
Unsure of how I would steer her,

I swung a leg over and started to roll,
When I saw him framed in the mirror"

The farmer paused at this moment,
So I inquired, "Who did you see?"

With horror he stared at the Silent Gray Fellow
Who from the saddle stated "Just me."