Many things have vanished in the mists of time
Books, plays, films and works of art sublime.
But recently vanishing without any fuss
Seems to have been the art of queuing for the bus.
Gone are the days when folk would stand in line
And politely get on the bus one at a time.
Nowadays it seems it’s quite impossible
To get on a bus without being pushed or jostled.
This madness starts before the bus has arrived
Passengers mingle ambiguously their plans devised
So when the bus arrives but before it thinks of stopping
They’ll be first in the queue due to their nefarious plotting.
Some folks watch from afar while others lurk near
But they are all ready when the bus is here
To quickly form a mob around its door
Not caring who gets pushed to the floor.
Bags, trollies and brollies are widely used
To get their owners to the front of the queue.
Children old and young begin to cry
As desperate bus boarders push them to the side.
Old folk tut loudly but are ignored
As the eager stampede through the bus doors
Even though passengers are still trying to get off
For this mob that’s no reason to stop.
It’s almost as if the bus driver has said
There’s a prize for who gets on first, alive or dead.
I’ve seen better behaved rugby scrums
That would act more politely when a bus comes
And I wouldn’t be surprised if one night
The bus queue erupted into a fight.
And those who are found standing last
Will be awarded a special bus pass
That allows for everyday of next month
To the front of the bus queue they can jump
But I bet even after all this fuss
They still fight to be first on the bus.
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