That Boy on the Bike!

That Boy on the Bike!

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SHAKESPERE declares all this world’s show,

And each one has a part in the play;

The cleverest artist alive does not know

What may happen to him the next day—

Exit and leave thousands—your friends say “how kind”—

Bereaved ones this kind of thing like--

Events that have passed cast their shadows behind—

It was so with the boy and his bike.

I met an old comrade on last Monday night

And was struck almost dumb with surprise,

His arm in a sling that on Sunday night was right,

And no doubt had two lovely black eyes!

Curious to know how he had come to grief,

I said, “why, what happened to you, Mike?”

He swore, “if I leave my two hands on the thief!”

I’ll hang for that boy on the bike!”

Out in the country picking blue bells—

Evening’s sweet calm was delightfully grand,

Suddenly broke by such terrible yells—

I started and felt there was murder at hand.

Off to the rescue, and there I beheld

A masher laid out in the dyke;

“What’s up?” then he looked and ferociously yelled,

“Can you see that young scamp on the bike?”

This week at an inquest I had to attend—

Another had gone the short way;

A journey we all have to travel, my friend,

And don’t know the week or the day!

The coroner sat and the evidence penned,

Then the jurymen went out on strike,

Verdict returned, “the deceased met his end

Through stopping a boy on a bike!”

This evening my sister went out for a walk,

I guessed her young man was on hand;

When she came back she was minus the talk

And her temper was gorgeously grand.

Knowing her well I pretended to doze;

Then she murmured “all men are alike”

Another sweet smile and the fool would propose

Were it not for that scamp on the bike!

                             Larry Doolan

                   

Ballina, April 25th, 1905