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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 3, Issue 3 (July 2, 1928)

Don't Go by the Bus

Don't Go by the Bus.

“What?” said the parrot, “we're asked to decide!”
When mother was planning to take a joy-ride.
The pot-holey roads made poor polly's heart quail,
And she screeched out in terror: “Oh, go by the rail.”
At sight of the hat-box and suit-case and gamp,
Poor polly got frantic, the cunning old scamp;
And screeched out in frenzy, again and again:
“Go by the rail, mother! Oh, go by the train!”
“My brain's in a muddle, my bones are all sore,
With bumping and thumping, twixt cage roof and floor;
Don't take me again in that horrid old bus,
That bumpy old boneshaker's no good to us.”
Of course I'm aware this is all parrot talk,
But it's out of the question, for mother can't walk;
And polly was wisest, and hence all the fuss
As poll kept on screeching: “Don't go by the bus!”