Getting Off

I have taken to cycling again after a lapse of a generation, How long I hardly care to tell, And on the whole, taking everything into consideration, I am getting on fairly well; Getting on, in fact, I don't find at all harassing, I can stick on too, easily enough, But the thing that I do find rather embarrassing Is that I can't get off. All kinds of things happen when I take my feet off the pedals; Sometimes I stand on one leg like a goose; Sometimes I plunge head-first into a bed of nettles, Which is not just what one would choose; Now and then I fetch up all standing Against a bank or a wall, And occasionally I execute an out-and-out pancake landing Which is not nice at all. I seem to remember hopping off easily and lightly, I can't imagine how, With a kind of curtseying motion, most graceful and sprightly, But I can't do it now. Still, I keep on trying with grim desperation, Though the going's rather rough, And thinking all the time how I shall enjoy the sensation When I remember how to get off.