THEY LEARN YOU LIKE POETRY AND…!
FROM A BUS DRIVER
For a dollar or two she bought
Him the works of Sir Walter Scott…
A poetry tome
That needed a home,
So that is what it has got.
He peeked inside with wonder
And who would guess he’d blunder
Upon engraved plates
With very old dates
And captions printed there-under?
“The Lay of the Last Minstrel” bard
Runs six cantos, if a yard…
He skipped to the end
Though he does intend
To read the whole thing, by your “pard.”
The former owner one sees
Was from the eighteen eighties..
Of estate sale swag
His friend bought a bag
And that’s how it came, him to please.
Who thought, in two thousand-eleven,
He’d find English poetry heaven…
Not since his school days
Was he lost in the haze
Of a Master’s creatively leavened!
—-Jonathan E, Caswell