Old Mrs.Bird is dead -
"Crossing the road without due care".
The driver said she lost her head -
"Crossing the road without due care."
She disobeyed the simple rule,
"Be very careful, quick and cool
When motor-cars are there";
So she is dead, the silly fool -
"Crossing the road without due care".
Old Mrs.Bird was much to blame,
"Crossing the road without due care."
For Mrs.Bird was rather lame
And should have taken SPECIAL care,
She had, it seems, deficient sight,
Her intellect perhaps was slight,
Her nerve required repair,
So she is dead and serves her right -
"Crossing the road without due care".
Old Mrs.Bird came up to Town
From Chipping -under-Bone,
Where limousines are seldom seen
And one-way streets unknown;
The notices of every kind
She studied with a frown:
“Look Left, Look Right, Before, Behind,
Look Sideways, up and Down!”
And since her eyes were only two
(And both were placed head)
She did not quite know what to do,
And so the woman’s dead.
She meekly stood upon the kerb,
Wishing that she could fly
And hoping she would not disturb
The motors rushing by;
But after wasting quite a space
She tired (I know not why)
Of standing in the selfsame place
And watching cars go by,
Like swallows homing to their mates,
Like sinners followed by their Fates,
Like elephants with urgent dates
The endless motor flew;
And Mrs. Bird at length was heard
To whisper this disgraceful word,
Although no doubt it seems absurd,
“I’m in a hurry too.”
She took a step into the road
And cars for miles around,
As if she were a slug or toad,
Made an offensive sound-
A cross between a siren’s hoot
And a rhinoceros roar,
A sound which said, “You bug! You brute!
You imbecile! You bore!”
And Mrs. Bird withdrew, deterred,
To where she was before,
The day went on, and Mrs. B
Still to the kerb was tied,
While those whom she desired to see
Where on the other side,
But as the sun began to sink,
There came a little lull,
A tiny little lull there came,
And Mrs. Bird said, “Now I think
That I can cross, but all the same
I wish I were a gull.”
I have remarked that she was lame,
She knew no acrobatics,
She could not sprint for half the Mint,
And what is more, the darned old fool,
She quite neglected when at school
The Higher Mathematics;
And so she could not calculate
By algebra or cards
How long it takes a Snitzler “8”
To travel fifty yards
(When doing fifty miles an hour
And hooting fit to frighten,
Containing sixty horses power,
And on the way to Brighton)
Nor could she tell that such a car,
If it stopped, will skid
(You know what country people are)
But that is what it did,
And almost everybody passed
This verdict on the blow-
‘Twas not the car that went too fast,
But she who went too slow,
And I agree-but then, to me,
There is no god but Speed;
When India’s one great asphalt floor,
Where motors, more and more and more,
Move even faster than before.
And whiz and wheeze and hoot and roar,
Though walking may become a bire
Life will be good indeed.
Old Mrs. Bird is dead-
“Crossing the road without due care.”
The driver said she lost her head-
“Crossing the road without due care.”
She should have burrowed underground,
Or crossed the road by crane,
Or taken one terrific bound,
Or hired an aeroplane;
For such as she are sure to fall
If they proceed on foot;
‘Twere wiser not to cross at all,
But stay where they are put.
She will not very much be missed,
But it upset the motorist;
And we must add her to the list-
“Crossing the road without due care”.
