I FELT this coming on the T6 bus recently.
Here I stand, queue for T8,
Has it broke or is it late?
Could be it’s the number 6,
With problems that they could not fix.
In winter snow or April showers,
I hang around this stop for hours,
In autumn or in summer sun,
There am I and it’s no fun.
If I go to heaven when I die,
I’m certain I will hear a cry,
From Peter on the gate that’s pearly,
You weren’t on T8, you’re much too early!
Stay a while then by and by,
You’ll see a scrapyard in the sky,
‘Tho if it has a little bus,
With T8 on it, start a fuss.
If it has no wheels or bell,
You’re not in heaven, no, you’re destination hell!
Glenys Halliday, Top o’th’ Hill Road, Walsden.