Poetry Archives

I own a gorgeous Cadillac,
     A chauffeur garbed in blue;
And as I sit behind his back
     His beefy neck I view.
Yet let me whisper, though you may
     Think me a queer old cuss,
From Claude I often sneak away
               To board a bus.

A democrat, I love the crowd,
     The bustle and the din;
The market wives who gab aloud
     As they go out and in.
I chuckle as I pay my dime,
     With mien meticulous:
You can’t believe how happy I’m;
               Aboard a bus.

The driver of my Cadillac
     Has such a haughty sneer;
I’m sure he would give me the sack
     If he beheld me here.
His horror all my friends would share
     Could they but see me thus:
A gleeful multi-millionaire
               Aboard a bus.