The Old 151 bus, I rode it then,
When I was but a lad of ten.

'Twas the magic carpet to take me where
I wanted to go with a kid-sized fare.

A dime and two pennies was all it required
To transport me wherever my young heart desired.

A Rogers Park 3-flat is where I called home
And that CTA bus that would let this boy roam. 

I could catch it on Farwell, at Sheridan Road
And Shazam! it became my get-around mode.

A ride north to Howard would take seven minutes
It was almost as far as the big city's limits.

Up towards Papa Milanos and the new bowling alley
Where the pizza was hot and the downed pins would tally.

Or the field house at Touhy to shoot Friday night hoops
Though most weeks we would walk it, in our dribbling groups.

A short ride to the south was the Loyola El Station
I would hop on the rail by that bus stop location.

For the price of a transfer, a nickel, no more
I'd ride it downtown, to Kroch's/Brentano's bookstore.

Route 151 was how our family traveled
It took us on roads, some paved and some graveled.

We didn't have a car, Dad said "we don't need it.
Public bus and train routes would surely excede it."

With routes in the hundreds and also the nine-six
Chicago's buses were always our family's fine-fix.

And now I'm a senior and not in the city
I don't ride on buses, perhaps it's a pity.

With Double A R P discounts -- I'm sure that they've got one.
A ride on the old 1-5-1 would be quite a hot one.

But alas I now think that it never will happen
In those thoughts and this verse, I'll now put a cap in.