The Train Won't Wait

 

The train won't wait in the station,

Its four-faced clocks command

While I clatter past startled travellers

Threadbare luggage in hand.

 

I watch as a carriage begins to slide

And my race is almost run; oh

The Devil's work without a doubt,

A scalding in place of fun.

 

The scene dissolves in disorder,

The station crowd's undecided;

Now its 'Everyone for Themselves',

And the ship of state's half-flooded.

 

We must get on, come on or die!

The meddlers' eternal song;

Who will take the wing, and fly

Far gone from right and wrong?

 

Ah, give me the balm of Utopia,

Her artfully temptress ways;

Let me spend my time in utter sloth

As the years drift down to days.

 

So thus is my plan of action:

Let busy fools persevere

Till exhaustion works its certain guile - 

And a plaque for a souvenir