Poem: The Driver’s Questionnaire

The Driver’s Questionnaire
 
For years I’ve been a driver in
An aimless sort of way;
Somehow I always did get by
Without a fine to pay.
 
But when the skies were very blue,
And distant mountains showed,
I found it very hard to keep
My eyes upon the road.
 
And now they bring this questionnaire
My motor ease to mar,
And you must get the answers right
If you would drive a car.
 
I look at it with puzzled brow,
For all that I can see
Are statements, all of which appear
Quite plausible to me.
 
But some of these, they say, are false.
(O would that I were rich)
For well I know my stupid brain
Could never fathom which.
 
I’d hire a driver and could be
As happy as before.
I’d sit at ease and watch the view,
And never worry more.
 
But if to be a driver, I
Must tax my brain so far,
I really think I shall decide
I do not need a car.
 
I’ll build a cabin far away
Where I can dream alone—
And lie upon some mossy bank
Along the San Antone.
 
And listen to the gurgling sound
The little ripples make,
Or watch the lazy motion of
A harmless water snake.
 
And when the spirit moves me,
I the lofty peak will climb
Away from toil and gas and oil,
Oh, such a life for mine!
 
So take away your questionnaire,
Your brain-exhausting test;
I’ll saddle up the gray and turn
My face toward the west.

Mabel E. Plaskett.