“The Bus”

 

 

 

“Come on, John, we’re going to town.”

“I’m on top of the wardrobe, Ma, I can’t get down”

“Jesus Christ, John, what are you like?

“In town, Ma, will you buy me a bike?”

 

“Hurry up, son, we’ll miss the bus!”

“Ma, I’d sooner play football with my mate Gus.”

“You’re coming with me, keep you out of trouble,

Don’t you dare splash in that puddle.”

 

“Look left and right Ma, to cross the road.”

“You mean right and left, son, be told.”

“When we’re in town, Ma, can I have an ice cream,

Please Ma?  Don’t be mean.”

 

“If you’re good, I’ll buy you some sweets

But you’ll have to be good, to get them treats.”

“I’ll be good, Ma, honest.”

“I know you will son, don’t break your promise.”

 

“Here’s the bus John.  If the driver asks say you’re only four.”

“But I’m five Ma, one year more.”

“John if you’re four you don’t have to pay.”

“I was five, Ma, yesterday.”

 

“You’re a big lad, to be only four.” the bus driver said.

“Yeah,” me Ma said “He gets well fed.”

“Can we sit upstairs, Ma?”

“OK, son, look out the window, you might see your Da.”

 

“Come on, John, here’s our stop.”

“Look at me, Ma, I can hop.”

The bus driver with the fat head

Looked at me again, and said,

“You’re a big lad to be only four.”

“Yeah,” I said, “I’ll be five when you open the door.”

 

~A poem by John Hughes age 4, er 5.