Brow Beat

Some Lines, On the Occasion of a MARTA Bus Ruining the Weather Channel’s Shot of the Georgia Dome at the Precise Moment It Imploded


Half a block, half a block,
Half a block farther,
Right past the Georgia Dome,
   Drove the bus driver.
“Forward, you MARTA Bus!”
Heedless of any fuss,
Into the camera frame,
   Drove the bus driver.


“Forward, you MARTA Bus!”
Was there a man who cussed?
Yes, for the crew knew their
   Broadcast was live-a.
Theirs was to make reply,
Theirs was to holler “Why!”
Theirs was to scream and cry.
Into their camera frame
   Drove the bus driver.


Nothing to the front of him,
Camera to the left of him,
Stadium to the right of him,
   Scheduled crash diver.
Just as the building fell,
Boldly he drove and well,
Into the history books,
Via Weather Channel,
   Noble bus driver.


Blocked off the Dome from view,
Blocked as the charges blew,
Angering the camera crew,
Ruining their TV show,
   Timely arriver.
Plunged in the stadium-smoke,
Right through the frame he broke;
Pulled off a masterstroke,
One four four fiver.
Steered by America’s
   Favorite bus driver.


Stadium to the right of him,
Camera to the left of him,
TV crew screaming at him,
  Spitting saliva;
Ignoring all their shouts and yells,
Till the whole building fell,
He that had stopped so well,
Picked up his passengers,
Pressed down the gas pedal,
And from the camera frame,
   Left the bus driver.


When can his glory fade?
O the wild charge he made!
   Camera depriver.
Honour the charge he made!
Honour the MARTA Bus!
   Honour its driver!