John F. McCullagh
The Times Square Bomber - Poem by John F. McCullagh
When death lurked just around the corner
My wife and I were sitting at a play.
Some immigrant –American was plotting
to turn Broadway into the great red way.
He'd parked his car bomb near the Times Square station
On foot, he bravely made his getaway
He took a rain check on the promised virgins-
So he might live to bomb another day.
Inside the playhouse buzzed with many rumors-
Why was the curtain held so long past eight?
It's unheard off to delay a Broadway curtain
just because some ticket-holders get there late.
You know the rest- the danger was discovered
The plot had fizzled, just like in our play
His car proved the star witness to convict him
He'll rot in jail until his dying day.
Then, when he dies and ventures up to heaven
and is greeted by the heavenly Houri.
There will be two and seventy intacto-
He'll have long since lost his own “virginity”
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