Safety-Clutch poem – by Ambrose Bierce poems | Poems and Poetry

Once I seen a human ruin

In a elevator-well.

And his members was bestrewin’

All the place where he had fell.

And I says, apostrophisin’

That uncommon woful wreck:

“Your position’s so surprisin’

That I tremble for your neck!”

Then that ruin, smilin’ sadly

And impressive, up and spoke:

“Well, I wouldn’t tremble badly,

For it’s been a fortnight broke.”

Then, for further comprehension

Of his attitude, he begs

I will focus my attention

On his various arms and legs–

How they all are contumacious;

Where they each, respective, lie;

How one trotter proves ungracious,

T’ other one an alibi.

These particulars is mentioned

For to show his dismal state,

Which I wasn’t first intentioned

To specifical relate.

None is worser to be dreaded

That I ever have heard tell

Than the gent’s who there was spreaded

In that elevator-well.

Now this tale is allegoric–

It is figurative all,

For the well is metaphoric

And the feller didn’t fall.

I opine it isn’t moral

For a writer-man to cheat,

And despise to wear a laurel

As was gotten by deceit.

For ’tis Politics intended

By the elevator, mind,

It will boost a person splendid

If his talent is the kind.

Col. Bryan had the talent

(For the busted man is him)

And it shot him up right gallant

Till his head began to swim.

Then the rope it broke above him

And he painful came to earth

Where there’s nobody to love him

For his detrimented worth.

Though he’s living’ none would know him,

Or at leastwise not as such.

Moral of this woful poem:

Frequent oil your safety-clutch.