Fetching Mancunians from Idlewild

A visit last night to Kennedy Airport to meet a man from Manchester furnished occasion (as I waited for him to negotiate Customs) to develop my thinnish idea of Sunday anent I-95.

The idea didn't change, but the result was nothing like what I'd expected. The idea proved to be, not thinnish, but donnish. It's set to the tune of Irving Berlin's Let's Face the Music and Dance, a song that, to my mind, positively crawls along:

You see construction ahead.
The traffic's bumper-to-bumper wherever you drive.
This must be I-95.

You weave like needle and thread;
You out-maneuver with all your skill,
And yet you still
Don't arrive—
You're stuck on I-95.

Ought
We to have up and bought
Heraclitean thought
So soon?

I'd vote for Zeno, instead.
That Heraclitus was crazy. All motion is jive,
When you're on I-95,
Clive—
Why even bother to drive?

Lyric © 2005 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov