How do they do it? I don't know.
Drivers who make band buses go.
They pilot a wide lumb'ring bus,
Through busy streets, with little fuss.
While all the while back of their head,
There rings a din could wake the dead!
Now driving's hard enough I know,
Without forty band kids in tow.
Yet through it all they drive along,
Immune from shouts, catcalls and song.
To ignore all that noise behind,
They must have very focused minds,
And wills of iron, nerves of steel,
Some inner peace and calm that's real.
Amazing, just to watch them work,
If it were me, I'd go berserk!
