WHILE riding in my buzz-buzz cart, I hit Bill Wax and spoiled his frame, and knocked his marrow-bones apart, and he remarked, "I was to blame!" I said, "This dark disaster, Bill, to my sad life new sorrow lends; I do not run my car to kill or mutilate my dearest friends. I'll pay the surgeon if he'll fix the bones I've broken, rent and bowed; and if you journey o'er the Styx, I'll see you have a Palm Beach shroud." "It was my fault," I heard him say, "and you don't have to pay a cent, for I was walking like a jay, and wasn't looking where I went. I busted every rule, I think, which ought to govern gents on foot, and now you've put me on the blink, I think a while I should stay put." Bill Wax shines brighter than a star; Bill Wax deserves immortal fame; he says the owner of a car is not in every case to blame! Hereafter, as I tour the town, in my new car that swiftly hies, I'll always try to run him down in preference to other guys. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A QUOI BON DIRE by CHARLOTTE MEW SONG: 5 by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIORGIONE: GEMMA'S SONG ON THE WAY by GORDON BOTTOMLEY THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: A VISION by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON THE POET'S ESTATE by ANNIE C. BURTON SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN: 54 by BLISS CARMAN TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. WHO WILL LEARN FREEDOM? by EDWARD CARPENTER |