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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
PARADISE LOST, by BERTON BRALEY Poet's Biography First Line: When I sat at the wheel of the fire chief's car Last Line: At the wheel of the fire chief's car. Subject(s): Automobiles; Driving & Drivers; Firefighters; Labor & Laborers; Wheels; Cars; Work; Workers | |||
When I sat at the wheel of the fire chief's car I could drive like a streak of light And not even the traffic cop could bar The course of my headlong flight. For the fire chief's car had the right of way And it laughed at the speed laws, too, And the motor cops hadn't a word to say When I used to go whooping through. Oh, Lord, it was great when my siren sang And the traffic would let me by, And I laughed as I drove with a zip and bang With the lever locked in high; But now I'm back in a private job It seems like I have to crawl And drivin' a car has lost its throb And it isn't no fun at all. For I've got to stop for the traffic cop And the motor cop hollers, "Hey! I'll summons you into court, old top, If you hit it up that way!" And I'm blocked by trucks and by flivvers too, And it sure does rasp and jar On the nerves of a guy who once shot through At the wheel of the fire chief's car. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER WORKING SIXTY HOURS AGAIN FOR WHAT REASON by HICOK. BOB DAY JOB AND NIGHT JOB by ANDREW HUDGINS BIXBY'S LANDING by ROBINSON JEFFERS ON BUILDING WITH STONE by ROBINSON JEFFERS LINES FROM A PLUTOCRATIC POETASTER TO A DITCH-DIGGER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS IN CALIFORNIA: MORNING, EVENING, LATE JANUARY by DENISE LEVERTOV |
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