Shrimp's mangled 8-Valve Indian following his gruesome and fatal crash at the Fort Miami Mile, in Toledo, Ohio on August 14, 1921.

A poem published in Motorcycle Illustrated in August 1921 after the death of Albert “Shrimp” Burns, the star of the Indian factory racing team and one of the most beloved champions in American motorsport. The photograph is of Shrimp’s machine following the crash, an 8-Valve Springfield factory special that just so happened to be the same motor No. 50 on which one of his idols, pioneer racer Charlie Balke had died in 1914. 

Light-hearted, kind-hearted, clean-souled Boy,
You’ve ridden away on your swift-moving toy,
And our eyes are a-stretch down the far-reaching track,
We’re waiting here, Boy, for you to ride back.

But Perhaps we are selfish to wish you were here,
When the goal you were riding for comes swiftly near.
(Not the wave of the flag as the plaudits come
Through the roar of your motor’s steady hum,

We know you better than that, our Boy.
You rode for the things that never cloy;
For the things that measure above all dross.)
You’ve won. And to us comes the loss.

And yet we have gained. We’ve know you so well,
No written word should read as your knell.
You always stood for clean, fair play.
You always rode when it came your day.

And you rode with your heart, never counting the gain;
The lesson you taught us was never so plain.
Through the mist of tears many things are made clear.
Do you know how we held your laughing smile dear?

Do you know how you paced us for things other than speed,
Toward the decent right living that’s every man’s need?
Do you know—do you know, Oh, Boy, do you know,
Through the Mist you have passed, how we don’t want it so?

But the Great Referee marks every man’s time,
And we bow, as did you, to our Great God Sublime.
On the track and in Life you have shown us the way,
To ride as we should to our own Judgment Day.
— -L.H.A.