In the year of 1960,
America elected a great president.
Then, in the Spirit of Easy Rider,
Nine daredevils came roaring into Nord East Minneapolis.
And we became the greatest motorcycle club ever.
B for the booze.
P for the pussy.
M for the machine.
Wild as ever.
The BPM's.
In the sunny season,
We partied and rumbled
And even wreaked havoc.
In defiance to rivalry,
We flew colors and searched for adventure.
In deference to brethren,
We were loyal and valiant.
But wild as ever.
B for booze.
P for pussy.
M for machine.
But wild as ever.
The BPM's.
In our Memorial,
There are many heroes.
Long John struck by a rival's bullet.
Little Tommy O.D.'d from a nasty divorce.
Let us take a moment of silence.
We have survived all our battles
In all the fire and brimstone.
B for the booze.
P for the pussy.
M for the machine.
Wild as ever.
The BPM's.
In the cold of Minnesota,
The prospects watch our machines.
But we still keep our booze and pussy
And trudge like stragglers in a scene.
Then, when Christmas rolls around,
All the toys roll out to all the tots
In all the fire and brimstone.
B for the booze.
P for the pussy.
M for the machine.
Wild as ever.
The BPM's.
United we stand,
Divided we fall.
In esprit de corps with gallantry
We have endured all our adversaries and all our adversities.
We are the BPM's.
Wild as ever
In all the fire and brimstone.
B for the booze.
P for the pussy.
M for the machine.
Wild as ever.
The BPM's.