In which we learn that I have low tastes in poetry
This being the end of National Poetry Week, I feel the urge to post poetry on CavLec. Not my own; you may thank any or all deities you can think of that I quit writing poetry after the teenage angst period.
I dearly love the gem following. Code-switching, a full Latin declension, rhymes providing crucial clues about pronunciation (I was never taught to pronounce my Latin that way!), and a wee bit of public-transportation angst. What’s not to like?
Without further ado, then, A. D. Godley’s “Motor Bus”:
What is it that roareth thus?
Can it be a Motor Bus?
Yes, the smell and hideous hum
Indicat Motorem Bum!
Implet in the Corn and High
Terror me Motoris Bi:
Bo Motori clamitabo
Ne Motore caeder a Bo—
Dative be or Ablative
So thou only let us live:
Whither shall thy victims flee?
Spare us, spare us, Motor Be!
Thus I sang; and still anigh
Came in hordes Motores Bi,
Et complebat omne forum
Copia Motorum Borum.
How shall wretches live like us
Cincti Bis Motoribus?
Domine, defende nos
Contra hos Motores Bos!