THE WHONNOCK BUS
Riding down to Haney
We ride the Whonnock “Flier,”
No running boards, no headlights,
No motor and no tires;
No motor and no spark
Still less co-operation.
The bus won’t use good gas and oil
It runs on reputation.
We have to ride this relic
Five days in every week.
We can have a seat but prefer to stand,
It’s safer so to speak.
The seats of lath and slivers,
Are frightful to behold;
The chick-wire windows let in drafts
And boy! It’s really cold.
Long may its rust spots glitter
Long may its motor cease
Long may it run the “Junk Heap Trail”
Then forever rest in peace.
Vera Hodson 1946
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