The Buses Headed for Scranton
by Ogden Nash
The buses headed for Scranton travel in pairs,
The lead bus is the bolder
With the taut appearance of one who greatly dares;
The driver glances constantly over his shoulder.
The buses headed for Scranton are sturdy craft,
Heavy chested and chunky;
They have ample vision sideways and fore and aft;
The passengers brave, the pilots artful and spunky.
Children creep hand in hand up gloomy stairs;
The buses headed for Scranton travel in pairs.
They tell of a bus that headed for Scranton alone;
It dwindled into the West.
It was later found near a gasoline pump—most grown,
Deserted, abandoned, like the Mary Celeste.
Valises snuggled trimly upon the racks,
Lunches in tidy packets,
Twelve Daily Newses in neat, pathetic stacks,
Thermoses, Chicklets, and books with paper jackets.
Some say the travelers saw the Wendigo.
Or were eaten by bears.
I know not the horrid answer, I only know
That the buses headed for Scranton travel in pairs.