He carried a newly wed couple across the Woodrow Wilson Bridge,
so many years ago, on the way too the Vietnam Wall.
5000 bikes all in a row, man you should have seen them all.
Back then he was a work of art,
chrome at every tuck,
proud machine he was back then, a regular iron stud.
He took a tour in the Central Americans,
salt water made him rust,
took some flat black paint and covered his shine up.
Oh he’s had a few ups and downs, across that jungle road,
but even without headlights, he still found his way home.
Then they boxed him up in a crate and Stateside he went,
took a tour at Infantry Hall, that’s where the carb went.
New valves and carb , man how those new pipes turned blue!
A couple of right jets installed and he started running like new.
But then the road started going down and things started falling off,
the rider at the the time had no way to cover the cost.
Time stood still for the Ironhead but he wasn’t left alone.
Words were exchanged and a promise between two Bros.
Rambo went away for awhile under caring hands,
he rode the road and won a few contests along the way.
But again times started getting hard and a few phone calls were made,
Rambo came back home just like the promised said.
He had been through a lot and he showed it here and there,
so Old Ironbutt rolled him out and sat long in a chair.
You know old buddy we’ve been through a lot
the things we have seen out there,
it’s time to fix your old wounds and let’s roll
in some fresh air!