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Kate Rancid

The Big Red Bus

The Big Red Bus

The big red bus comes
Over the hill;
It tramples the artichokes
Late for work.

The clock strikes nine,
And the man with the marrow
Is passing the time.

"Tring, Tring, Tring," shouts the ironmonger,
Merging his iron with the sun.
Another train goes racing by;
The oranges passenge alone.

And hark at the lark;
Its song is so serene.
The woman in the window box
Has the friendliest coral that you've ever seen.

And now the bus has passed us by,
So drink thy cider
And finish thy pie.

Kate Rancid (b. 1973)