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Title: How They Might Have Brought The Good News
Author: Bert Leston Taylor [
More Titles by Taylor]
We sprang to the motor, I, Joris and Dirck.
I snapped on my goggles and got to my work.
"Hi, there!" yelled the cop in the helmet of white;
"Let her flicker!" said Joris, and into the night,
With a sneer at the speed laws, we hurtled hell-bent
To carry to Aix the good tidings from Ghent.
The going was poor, we expected delay,
And the usual livestock obstructed the way.
At Boom we ran over a large yellow dog,
At Dueffeld a chicken, at Mecheln a hog;
What else, we'd no time to slow down to inquire;
At Aerschot, confound it! we blew out a tire.
I jacked up the axle and ripped off the shoe,
And snapped on an extra that promised to do.
"All aboard!" I exclaimed as I cranked the machine,
But something was wrong with the curst gasoline.
"By Hasselt!" Dirck groaned, "We'll be half a day late;
We ought to have sent the good tidings by freight."
False prophet! I tinkered a minute or two
And again we were off like "a bolt from the blue."
We ate up the hills at a forty-mile clip,
And skidded the turns like the snap of a whip,
Till we dashed into Aix and were pinched by a cop
For failing to slow when commanded to stop.
"Now, wouldn't that frost you!" said Joris, but we
When we told the glad tidings were instantly free.
The Mayor himself paid the ten dollars' fine,
And blew us to dinner with six kinds of wine,
Which (the burgesses voted, by common consent)
Was no more than their due that brought good news from Ghent.
[The end]
Bert Leston Taylor's poem: How They Might Have Brought The Good News
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