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Ah nostalgia. This song featured in the first ever 'Mervyn Sprocket and the Crankshaft Assembly' gig in 1979 and also the first of my songs I ever performed. I was a biker then and this was something of a self-parody. My entrance to the gig was on my bike (a Honda Super Dream) and I rode through the audience on the slippery wooden floor of the church hall. I sang the song, still on the bike, and after a couple of short throw-away cover versions and an encore of this song again (it was demanded, not inflicted!) I rode out again. Quite a start to my rock career! It was a one night wonder band but a few months later I started a new incarnation of 'Mervyn Sprocket and the Crankshaft Assembly' that we re-named 'Salt Solution' a couple of years later.

The line up for the first 'Mervyn Sprocket and the Crankshaft Assembly' was:
- Martin Day - vocals
- Steve Collins - Guitar (& also wrote the music for this song)
- Pete Mulford - Bass
- Dave Gardener - Drums

Play Now

For the curious...
Listen to the original recording of 'Torn Leather Tearaway' the 1983 cassette album by Mervyn Sprocket and the Crankshaft Assembly (later to become Salt Solution)

(NB this has been transferred from a cassette and the poor sound quality is only matched by the poor musicianship!)


Martin Day (and his dog) Go to 'The Dog' Read about the author I'm Martin Day. Please contact me about anything on this site. I will reply personally. email Martin Day

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'Torn Leather Tearaway'                                  by Martin Day

Torn Leather tearaway,
Rebel on the road.
Clutch slip, twist the grip,
Ditch the highway code.
Chain lash, engine thrash,
Rubber at the lights.
In my slip-stream there's a Super Dream,
So I blow him out of sight.

I strike fear in my leather gear
When I'm cruising through the town.
There's a Pigmobile on my rear wheel,
Driving like a clown.
With his blue light flashing bright,
Siren screaming in my ear.
The sparks fly, it's do or die,
'Coss I'm getting out of here.

Isle of Man, racing cam,
Footrest on the ground.
Wipe flies from my eyes.
Now turn up the sound.
What a ride, she's open wide,
But he's chasing like a hound.
Still on the run, I hit the ton.
The copper's loosing ground.

        A driver turning, not discerning,
        Not enough road to share.
        Broadside; car; collide,
        And I'm flying through the air.

There's a funny smell from the fires of Hell,
Apart from human souls.
Something's on the boil, its burning oil!
'Coss a biker burns like coal.
It's a bad dream, "Where's my machine."
I'm screaming while I char.
"Please God appear, and get me out of here,"
"And I might even buy a car."

© M Day 1979











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