Poetry by Jeff Green


Travel to Work

by cricketjeff on May 24, 2011.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

The buses in London are friendly and red
They travel in convoys (they’re easily led)
They love to eat oysters, not coins cheques or notes
And bounce up and down more than flat-bottomed boats

Today my train was running fine,
It whisked along the line,
I caught a bus,
Without a fuss
And got to work by nine.

The buses in London have upstairs on top
Their drivers look angry when they have to stop
To pick up the people who’ve queued for a ride
And mutter dark oaths about “no room inside”

I read the news (the paper’s free)
And there was still a seat for me.
“Please mind the gap”
Destroyed my nap
So thought of poetry

The buses in London don’t care much for cars
Or passengers dressed up for nights out in bars
They think that all roads should boast bus-lanes at least
And keep out the taxi, that impudent beast!

So now I’m here with work to do
And here I’ll stay till I get through
Then home by train
Impending pain,
I’d rather be with you!