What is it with transport? What is it with men?

- this title should make me remember again

the plentiful misdeeds suffered in Spain

when I was a student, taking the train

I wasn't a beauty, no great femme fatale

just a studious, book wormy, meek kind of gal

totally green to the word 'machismo'

and how it gave vent to the game 'touch and go'

often a finger, a palm or a thumb

brushed rather lightly across a girl's bum

seemingly accident, done with panache

so hard to redress it would make your teeth gnash

worst of all still were the ones who crept out

in rush hour when plenty of folk were about

standing room only, sardines in a tin

no way to get out and no way to get in

but they'd find a way to stand behind me

pretending to look around innocently

seemingly accident done with panache

you'd feel a chorizo jammed right up your ass!

What is it with transport?  What is it with men?

- this title should make me remember again,

memories pricked by the pricks that I met

on buses and tubes and the trains that I'd get.

Let's hope the world's changed, 'machismo' long gone

our daughters now safe to hop off and hop on

the buses, the tubes, the trams and the train

when travelling in Portugal, Italy, Spain...