The Critical Mass Song (sing to the tune of "Waltzing Matilda" in 3/4)

Lyrics by Paul Campbell

Well there've always been bicycles all around the billabong
Parties, people, whole families
Now it's a drive-thru Maccas that don't serve bikes
In a carpark with one big old coolibah tree

Oh come a-waltzing Matilda my darling
Shall we go for a ride and shall we
Try to describe what we want the world to look like
When we ride home with an old friend or three

But people still come on their bicycles to the billabong
And they meet every night by the coolibah tree
And they ride like a tide together down the public roads
Safe and content in their own company

Oh come a-waltzing Matilda my darling
Shall we go for a ride and shall we
Try to describe what we want the world to look like
When we ride home with an old friend or three

Our local ministers listen very carefully
To the concerns of the beaureaucracy
There's no room left on the road for the cars and trucks
You might want to get rid of that coolibah tree

Oh come a-waltzing Matilda my darling
Shall we go for a ride and shall we
Try to describe what we want the world to look like
When we ride home with an old friend or three

Our local councillors listen very carefully
To the concerns of the constituency
They'll consider the bike plan and then they'll reject it
And approve the removal of the coolibah tree

Oh come a-waltzing Matilda my darling
Shall we go for a ride and shall we
Try to describe what we want the world to look like
When we ride home with an old friend or three

Well the tree lovers pulled up the cops from the billabong
And up pedalled constable one two three
And there were a thousand human-powered people
And they chained up their bikes to the coolibah tree

Oh come a-waltzing Matilda my darling
Shall we go for a ride you and me
On the last Friday night of the month at five thirty
When we ride home with an old friend or three

Oh come a-waltzing Matilda my darling
Shall we go for a ride and shall we
Try to describe what we want the world to look like
When we ride home with an old friend or three

Play in the Traffic

By Richard Smith

Looking for a toilet
Have to cross the road
Traffic passing slowly
Feel that I should play

Wearing bike rider clothing
Including High Vis-vest
Cars are not stopping
But less than when we rode

Hard not cross the lanes
Hard to wait for a green light
It’s not so far
And the cars are slow

There are no buses, lane beside lane
No packed taxis here
But there are no pedestrians
Walking across the road

And it seems that
Many would like
To get to the other side
To do the next thing they need

Takes a certain run up
To go play in the traffic
Takes a bicycle
To ride Critical Mass

But there are people
To help you fix a broken chain
Have some food
And ride home again

And the spring sky
Turns purple then grey
And the Critical Mass
Rides along

To visit
A waiting friend
Or Reclaim the Night
Or a cafe

And then we break up
Go our separate ways home
Until next month
See you back at the fountain