Is there anything more painful than travelling by Bus,
Save wearing a ‘Hair Shirt’ with a Barbed-Wire Truss?
For it to arrive on time is expecting the Earth,
Like asking Bill Gates for his PIN Number and Worth.
There I stand at the STOP and the Bus sails on by,
For the Driver wears ‘ Blinkers’ to the side of each eye.
And when ‘Godot’ does turn up it’s packed to the brim,
It’s like a scene from ‘Where’s Wally’ for the space to fit in.
Bowed heads they give prayer in the Church of the New,
To the Gods that are : ‘Apple’, ‘Orange’, and the divinely ‘O2’.
How unhappy and glum the people all seem,
Happier faces on Toffs meeting ‘Madam Guillotine’.
Headsets to loud , sly Vapers at the rear,
A Baby’s lungs at the front give assault to the ear.
The floors laid with Trash and the Seats are unclean,
When last saw a Mop ‘Lady Chatterley’ was ‘Obscene’.
Oh! there must be a better way to get from A over to B,
Without the Slings and Sharp Arrows to my fragile self dignity.
‘Hell is other people’ a Wise Man once said,
This Perdition on wheels is the sample we dread.
So as we get to the end I disembark with relief ,
Next time I will walk and save myself grief.