Carlisle to Glasgow

Robin Ford, January 2016

No trains were running to Glasgow
For the railway track was stuffed.
We found a bus that replaced them
But at first we were rebuffed.
We tried again and we boarded
And were putting things away
When the driver set up his mirrors
And we left without delay.

Three seats were all that were taken
As we drove on through the rain.
Quite soon the motorway beckoned
And we rolled on like a train.
The driver made a diversion
And we thought “What will he do?”
Well, he parked the bus in a hurry.
And he dashed off to the loo.

We soon reached Glasgow’s main station
And were getting off the bus
When a traffic management person
Made a bee-line right for us.
He walked straight up to our driver
And began to bend his ear
With “You really ought to know better;
Than to drive your bus in here.”

We saw a taxicab driver
Who was waiting for a fare.
When we said “To Fraser Apartments”
He kept on asking “Where?”
At last we got to our lodgings
Where a helpful urbane man
Supplied the keys that we needed
And our Glasgow time began.

But although we had been successful
We began to have the thought.
That others might have felt cheated
With the tickets they had bought.
We thought the driver left early,
And perhaps by taking us.
There were twenty freezing cold people
Still waiting for the bus.