Seat Belt Poem by Daniel Ionita

Why should I strap my seat-belt on, I pray?
I’m not in an airplane,
Nor in a car,
Not even in an ambulance, I have to say...

The coachman swears with spite, the stupid sod,
And threatens
That he’ll stop the hearse;
I don’t know if to laugh or cry, and both would sound quite odd.

But if he screams again, he'have a coronary, and that’d be quite obscene.
For then the whole kaboodle could end up in the ditch!
Following it are relatives, friends, enemies...
What’s this? A cemetery march or some dumb circus routine? !

How the hell did he know about the seat-belt, silly skink?
He’s on the bench near the horses,
I’m in the cask
Maybe I’ll bribe him to shut up, and he’d get himself a drink.