A Down the Railway Rhyme!

I walked the line
to where the steel once ran.
I walked the time line…
Where the rail gap clatter
gave way to wild bird chatter.
Where commuter crush
became deer grazing in a siding’s hush…

Wild flowers, weeds & shrubs
flourish where the occasional sleepers lay
and the odd rail cleat on the track bed ,
remind us where the rails once led,
till those who govern these things said…
Too expensive!…No more the train.
Let the trucks & roads take the strain.

Today… Nature’s Food Chain
replaces yesterday’s Freight Train
Wolf’s Bain and Wart’s Ease
instead of strap hanger’s
carriage squeeze…
meant kids would sit on their mother’s knees

Today there’s a diving Sparrow Hawk
where once 3rd Class picked up on small talk
and 1st was treated to business ‘squawk’.
The river & passing pastures have seen it all;
rail trade that kept a town alive
gives way to help the wildlife thrive.

The fabric of our society is slipping.
It’s so transparent you CAN see right through.
We’ve got a posh yob thinking he can do the leader’s job.
He knows he’s *****, that his detractors are right,
and he should throw the towel in right now.

The algorithm’s not the only thing that’s ******.
our future’s definitely been well & truly chucked.
the wrong people are being knighted
the proles are being slighted and
we’re being seen as a laughing stock round the world

it’s the blind leading the partially sighted,
where the grass roots need just  to be united
and who is it who can handle that job?
Not anyone from this current motley mob?
It’s not pretty… It’s downright ugly!

Friday night, half five. Offices, factories,
fish docks, shops’d unload…
Pan-stick applied, lippy, slap, fresh scent…
ancient Brits in finest 'warpaint' woad.
Oxford Bags, double breasted jacket, 10 ****,
Brilliantine and Brylcreem.
The Hull to Withernsea train stood ready
with a full head of steam.

The preened, the pummed - the chancers, romancers…
loves young dreamers, the loved up dancers - .
Laden with laughter, the Friday night
‘With’ Special lurches out of Hull…
15 miles of glistening steel…
an escape route from the drudge, the cludge,
to ‘Crazy Night’ chances of a naughty weekend.
It’s anything but dull…      

Paragon to Scullcoates,
Southcoates & Marfleet
the carriages already full to burstin’
and the wackiness awaits.
Hedon Speedway, Rye Hill
and Burstwick trundling by…
Hedonists through Hedon’s Gate
sleepy Patrington, Hollym… With!

Piling off the platform toward digs
and guest house fun, stuffed weekend bags…
A thruppeny bit to the sack truck boy
and one of your precious ****.
We’re carousing down the street,
half the city must be here
and the feeling… well it’s reet!
Gagging for a beer - but first…

“Ooh, Mr & Mrs Smith is it?”…
the landlady asks with a knowing wink.
Bags in, **** out - into The Alex  for a drink…
before tripping to The Queen’s and 'Crazy Night!'
Tuppence and a jam jar (don’t ask) gets you in
and it’s mayhem - out of sight!
What a din! Lively band, cheap drinks… what a night!

Girls giggle in gaggles,
dancing round their bags…
The lads... a beer, a laugh, a leer
and passing round the ****.
The whole of Hull turns out in our With
on a summer’s Friday night.
1935… the town’s throbbing…
will it, ever again, see the like?

It’s bad enough being governed by tossers
but those who might lie about what they’ve
done to prove they deserve their title;
changing diaries, blogs and saying, well
we didn’t get the e-mail…No, honestly - no note!
Well listen to me you tosspot - you ain’t got my vote!

Politicians who don’t take steps to deal
with crises on a Friday - but put it off till Monday
‘cos, well, it’s the weekend - and we don’t do weekends…
Well, I know I’m not even a cog in the wheel…
but I AM a voter… and, you posh-boy procrastinators
whilst your **** points downwards - No sir!
I ain’t your voter!

If everything’s unprecedented, exponential - non essential
that just means you failed… your eye wasn’t on the ball - you bailed!
Countries that tumbled first surely that put the writing on the wall.
That should have given you a clue - but no - not with you.
Cobra? Err, sorry couldn’t do the first five…
Shame mate - ‘cos half of those that died might still have been alive.
You ain’t got my vote!

So how can you do it? What? Well, make amends!
I’ve got a good idea -  why not work weekends!
And, while you’re at it why not just own up
to not coping very well. The Game’s up!
And, after you’re voted out next time
just go to hell! You ain’t got my vote!
Is that the door?… I’ll get my coat!

We were at it like a couple of rabbits back then…
Eating salad I mean! Trying to lose weight!

Laying off the *****… keeping up the exercise.
press ups till you’re dizzy, can’t see straight
And look at them rippling thighs!
Never having a lie in or getting up deliciously late.
But running on the beach early doors, increasing the heart rate.

Heart and lungs that’s the thing - get a proper sweat on!
So good? Yeah! A crafty beer? Well maybe - but please, don’t let on.

The odd indiscretion is OK as long as it doesn’t show.
But the day of reckoning’s looming again and they’ll all have to know…
And in spite of all your calorie counting and life becoming a blur.
On the scales (these 'ere must be wrong) you’re just the same as you were!

Come Friday…”Christopher has had another good week everyone; he’s lost 6 ounces!!”
Daily exercise? Look at them rippling thighs!!

But I’ve done me best I’m on rice crackers with lemon zest
three times every day… I’m exercising… she’s criticising
And I’m worried I’ll waste away!
"No" she says… "your love handles haven’t disappeared.
Until they do it’s more of this and less of that.
And…you’re too shagged out anyway!"

Weight Loss... I don't give a toss!

I’m sorry I had to leave so suddenly that night.
And even more sorry to know that you had the shock
of finding my ’not wanted on the voyage’ body.
The useless carcass I left behind.
That shouldn’t happen to anyone,
to find your lifeless partner by your side…
That’s how you’d see it anyway.

But me? I’m off now into the wide blue yonder,
never to return. Not as you knew me anyway.
These are the rules I’m afraid.
Apparently some people do come back.
****** Spiritualists & Clairvoyants… They make us all,
up here - seem like part timers.
Not that I wouldn’t… But it’s complicated.

There’s a kind of apprenticeship,
a protocol to follow…There are still rules
even in death. There has to be a trade off.
No pain… no anguish…
And, you can just dip in and out of your old
family’s life - PAs… Personal Appearances.
That’s what 'Head Office' calls ‘em

Pacifies the loved ones that you are settled.
In the dying mode of things that is.
Really what you’re doing… as a soul,
is waiting for a suitable donor body
then you're born into a new family!
That's the way it goes!

To end on a lighter note… Kind of makes you wonder
why there aren’t more child prodigies around…
Maybe only the smartest ones make it back! Who knows?

All that knowledge gone to waste… Just saying!