There was an old woman who fell on a train,
As it pulled into Waterloo.
I don’t know if it hurt her, or caused her pain,
There was no hullabaloo.
Her travelling companions helped her up,
And the passengers all walked away.
I barely thought that I should stop –
Londoners don’t feel that shame.
In the second of my poems about sights seen while on London’s various rail networks, I’m choosing to describe an incident which is rather typical of the stereotypical London journey, but does not reflect well on me at all. I did have somewhere to get to, but other than that I have no excuse. If these brief vignettes of travel in London go down well, I may make them a regular feature.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic