The One-o-three

By Les While

Many wrinklies, just like us
    Travel daily on the bus
We stand with patience at the stop
    With stick extended as a prop
And gaze myopically afar
    “Is that a bus, or just a car?”
Wrong again! It is a van
     Driven by – ‘A white van man’
“Here comes a bus, this one’s on time”
    “Oh no! A ‘Not in Service’ sign”
We stand and stand, wait and wait
      The next one must be running late
“Here it comes!” the queuers cry
      As double-decker whizzes by
Packed with people seated, standing
      Even crowded on the landing
But, by it went, with just a blur
       No places for the oldies there
“What a way to treat the old folk”
       Said a grey but upright bloke
“This standings murder for my feet”
      “I want a bus with an empty seat”
There’s one behind, a one- o- three
      “Should be room for you and me”
“Get out your pass and wave it well”
      “So the kind driver man can tell”
“That you’re entitled to a ride”
      “If there’s room on the inside”
The driver shakes his head, dark, curly
     “Nine twenty nine! No chance, you’re t’wirly”

Ed’s comment – Thank you Les for the society’s first piece of poetic licence. Are there any more budding Byrons out there? If so send your poems to me for inclusion in a later issue.
© Les While/ QLHS 2003

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