I’m sitting on the train

A comedy poem about my travels on the Wymondham to Norwich line, when I was a regular commuter thereon!

I’m sitting on the train,
Trying to write a rhyme,
Why? I hear you ask me,
Well, it’s something to pass the time.

I’m sitting on the train,
And I’ve now got writer’s block,
My writing is illegible,
As I take another knock.

I’m sitting on the train,
Something I thought had been banned,
It’s always packed to the rafters,
And I usually have to stand.

I’m sitting on the train,
There’s too many people on.
It’s really fucking hot in here,
I wish it had air con.

I’m sitting on the train,
The inspectors a real dork,
Don’t think me too judgemental,
But the man can hardly talk.

I’m sitting on the train,
And I’ve really got to laugh,
I doubt this man’s ever had sex,
Or even a bloody bath.

I’m sitting on the train,
Thinking life is just great,
Then the announcement begins,
This train will terminate.

I’m sitting on the train,
Thinking, well, that’s just plain absurd,
It’s either bad choice of language,
Or maybe I misheard.

I’m sitting on the train,
My god I can see some sights,
Drunken chav mothers,
And their horrid little tykes.

I’m sitting on the train,
I hear phones and a loud twat,
Imagine my desperation,
When my iPod runs flat.

I’m sitting on the train,
And I feel something is amiss,
I’ve run to here straight from work,
And now I’m busting for a piss.

I’m sitting on the train,
Thinking how to make this end,
I’ll guess I’ll just stop writing,
When my journey’s at its end.

© Copyright Craig A Bailey.

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