Chapter 1
Vernon Who Drove A Bus Badly (In Brighton)
A Cautionary Tale
One day I met on my commute
A bus driver of ill repute
His name was ‘nasty’ Vernon Crane
For reasons I shall now explain
Every morning he would drive
Up the mall along route five
Hunting passengers to thwart
In their quest for bus transport
Smirking at the desperate queues
(Queue’s spelt with two ’e’s and two ’u’s)
He’d park the bus a little shy
Of the usual stop nearby
Then he’d sit and chew a bun
As part of his sadistic fun
Watching all the angry faces
In pouring rain with bags and cases
And when he’d finished his coco
And listening to the radio
He’d switch the sign from ‘88’
To ‘Not In Service, You’re Too Late!’
But cruel behaviour breeds contempt
And Vernon Crane was not exempt
The news went round and hints were dropped
About how Vernon rarely stopped
And when he did stop it was fleeting
And everyone would dash for seating
And woe betide if you were weak
Or had a less than toned physique
You’d have to vault to reach the steps
And with the help of strong biceps
Grab on to the dangly straps
Or face a series of mishaps
Which happened once to Mr Crump
As Vernon zoomed over a bump
And Mr Crump grabbed Mrs Dunne
Who was cushioned by her son
Her son took hold of Miss Von Trapp
Who landed on the Vicar’s lap
Who kicked poor Mrs Delaware
Who grabbed a tight hold of thin air
And as she toppled down the aisle
Vernon Crane was seen to smile
And then let out a great guffaw
As she hurtled out the door
They found the lady up a tree
In desperate need of therapy
She still prefers no one discusses
Her dreadful phobia of buses
But one day Vernon’s bus broke down
On the quieter side of town
And angry crowds who he’d ignored
Caught up with him and jumped aboard
They slapped him round the head and face
And poked him with a pencil case
And made him roll about the floor
As he had done to them before
And then they formed a rugby huddle
Ganged up and threw him in a puddle
They left him sobbing where he lay
Stuck out their tongues and drove away
