Hot, humid weather says summer is here;
The Underground's horrid; fellow travellers so near
They're toughing your back and your front and your sides,
Which every long-suffering traveller derides.
The air in the carriage has more than a whiff,
Of stale human sweat which would certainly miff,
Any person expected elsewhere to endure
For ages a scent with so little allure.
The heat is a nightmare; it's quite safe to bet,
You'll soon be awash with large droplets of sweat,
Which course down your face after wetting your hair,
Something that people should not have to bear.
Standing is tiring; you'd like to site down,
But seats are so few, and you see with a frown,
All have been taken by those who got on
At earlier stops, for they are soon gone.
You long for the time when at last you arrive;
You're hot and you're sticky and ready to dive,
Out of the carriage and breathe the fresh air.
You start to feel better again when you're there.
No comments:
Post a Comment