An Appeal To An Olde Lethal Driver

Note of dedication: To thou, whose style at ye olde wheel doth rupture the natural and proper containment of victuals, and doth render thy passengers agog with terror and greatly obsessed with the preservation of their lives, and who, through ye asinine wielding of thy death-dealing wheel, doth maketh a threat to the world hitherto unknown in all ye annals of history, that doth containeth great plagues, wars and mishaps in the world of ye men! These words are written to thee, in the hope that they may bringeth about a speedy reduction in thy speed, and that they may realign the course, handling and direction of thy locomotive with the course and margins commonly followed by the saneth and cultured men…

Doeth thou believe thou art not mortal?

Doeth thou philosophise that thy passengers are gods?

For surely, if this were not so, thou art would curtail

Thy wildness at ye wheel!

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Thy passengers doth complain bitterly

At the re-emergence of wholesome victuals!-

For these, they had eagerly devoured,

Unaware of the pending horrors of thy cabin!

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Thy neighbours flee at the sound of ye motor

Like a herd of zebras at the lion’s roar!

Like the atrocities of ye olde Assyria

Thy motor hath become feared in the land!

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The eyes of thy fellow travellers do bulegeth wide

At the sight of ye terrible approach!

Thy town is consumed by a morbid dread:

By fevers, spasms and unnatural terror!

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The tender maidens doth weepeth in despair

When thou art abroad on the roadways!

Like the cuteth rabbit beneath a bird of prey

The tender maidens doth scurry and scramble!

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The ancient grimeth reaper

Doth ride with glee at thy side!

For hē knoweth well that to follow thee

Is to reapeth richly at a bountiful harvest!

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Thou art hath intimacy in higheth regions

For thy name is well known at the houses of law!-

And thy pile of papers demanding thy spoils

Hath reached for the heavens like the tower of Babel!

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How dideth thee obtain thy licence for thy engine!?

And by what means doth thou preserve this authority!?

These indeed are greateth mysteries-

And into these things, even angels would peereth!

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Doeth not the terror of thy fellow men move thee?

And doeth not thy wreckages containeth thy zeal!?

Forsooth, thou art a menace

To the boundaries and laws the universe doth proffer!

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Mindeth, then, the words of ye poet

Who seeketh to redeem thy cautious qualities!

Heareth his words (amidst the screams of thy victims)

And blesseth our travels with peace!

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Turn thy wheel into the likeness of a halo

And render thy engine to the schools of the pacifist!

And then, thy will, in this spirit of reform

Postpone the making of thy oily deathbed!

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(Daniel Macintyre)

(Copyright Daniel Macintyre protectmywork.com 21/04/2026)