There was once a little lady,
Who had in her arms a bag and her baby.
She boarded the peopled bus,
Her treasure making quite a fuss.

In the bus was a man,
Who had a splendid brown tan,
Pulsing were his arms so strong,
They throbbed like a melody of a song.

Then there was this queer fellow,
Wearing a shirt of the color yellow.
He had a satin bag and that air
That spoke of a woman trapped in a man’s lair.

Seeing the little lady with the baby and the bag,
The yellow fellow stood up without lag,
To offer his (or her?) seat,
For this little lady looking beat.

The bus went on its usual route,
Streets filled with smoke and soot,
The little deed unseen by the restless crowd,
The little deed that shamed the proud.

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