John Darker

My daily journey, to and fro

Makes my failing eyes weep

For I am engulfed by humans

All behaving like sheep

 

I am on the station concourse

Crazy rush hour o’clock

My opponents, annual members

Of the commuting flock

 

There is meanness in this meanie

Must be first to the space

Expletives become exbleatives

’Tis not a human race

 

A mobile mob on mobile phones

Coats personal hot spots

In clouds are apps found and minds lost

Dips personal not spots

 

The herd is heard but is not seen

’Tis haphazard motion

Continued participation

Needs sheep dog devotion

 

I go down, to join the squashed down

The big underground herd

But when big push comes to big shove

I’m bigly not deterred

 

Rough Fell on the escalator

Oh damn that gruff Exmoor

A Speckled Face hard stares and swears

My body’s on the floor

 

I squeeze into the metal pen

Lamb ram causes trouble

Constricted as the gates slide shut

Now I’m folded double

 

The hurtle’s tight, a herd all sprint

Hurtling on down the track

It’s head-to-head and toe-to-toe

Butt-to-butt, back-to-back

 

The drove slows to a station stop

Lamb ram causes mishap

Alight with wool pulled over eyes

Mind the tricky wide gap

 

My soft right side is rammed right hard

By rough rampaging ram

My foot is crushed by rampant ewe

Foul mutton dressed as lamb

 

Suffolk off the travellator

Oh blast that Norfolk Horn

A Dales Red sees my blood run red

Legs bashed and trousers torn

 

Fulfilled, this forth of back and forth

My yarn of wool is spun

Ill-mannered and unmerciful

The mob’s still on the run

 

When taking on this trip again

Armour should ease the pain

And I should use, as shepherd’s crook

My jabbing long white cane