Train of Thought by Steffan Jenkins

I realize trains are hateful things,

commuters packed into mobile sardine tins.

There are people who think reservations are vague,

and some rundown chap who might have the plague.

The screaming child is always sat next to you,

and bugger me! Signal failure at Crewe!

Back in first class, the banker who’s plastered

and the self-righteous, egotistical bastard

who checks every ticket for no bloody reason,

and whose temperament is foul in every season.

There is some poor sod, a ticket, he has not,

his response when asked “I must have forgot.”

At the very next stop he is thrown from the carriage,

and the unhappy couple return to arguing their marriage.

Faces for London are suddenly dismayed,

their connection keeps changing from ‘delayed’ to ‘delayed’.

We unceremoniously arrive at the station,

all with a look of quiet resignation.

The journey ends in misery and pain,

with the overture of “Please mind the gap as you step off the train”.