FROM A BUS DRIVER

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