Doggerel in a Bus Queue
Christine Kugele
Think of the one that’s coming,
Not of the one that’s gone.
What does it profit a man to know
That he’s missed that Number One?
Now it’s all pushing and shoving
Where once we used to queue.
Unless we indulge in a Rugby scrum
We’ll miss that Number Two.
More than too many people
Standing in front of me;
I shall be late for work again
If I miss that Number Three.
Where have I put my ticket?
It was in my purse before.
If I have to go home again,
I shall miss that Number Four.
Out in the freezing morning,
Feeling just alive;
We seem to have lost our gloves again.
Where is that Number Five?
I am expecting workmen
To mend and make and fix.
I’ll never be able to let them in
If I miss that Number Six.
Trapped in a Winter deluge,
A hot bath would be Heaven.
Just to get these wet things off-
Is that a Number Seven?
I’m meeting friends for dinner,
So please don’t make me wait.
How can I possibly make them believe
There was no Number Eight?
A final exchange of stories,
Our laughter filled with wine,
We reach for our coats and settle the bill,
And run for the Number Nine.
From concert-hall or theatre,
We’ll soon be home again.
The welcoming doors to the lighted warmth -
Ah, bliss! The Number Ten! |
