’Twas the time before Christmas and folks on the
rails
Were crowding the aisles…and clipping their
nails.
They were sitting in stairwells, and propping
wet boots
On overhead railings…(uncaring galoots!)
Conductors were thwacking their punches on
walls,
Waking the dozers with noise that appalls.
A lawyer was spreading his briefs on three
seats,
A Walkman was clicking non-musical treats.
Three women gaggled, two gentlemen brayed,
A self-centered person said his/her nerves were
quite frayed.
A typical rush hour retreat from the city;
(“Those wet boots are dripping, my hair’s
getting gritty!”)
But we’ll be home quickly, they all know that’s
true,
Commuting’s a bother – but they do get you
through.
The on-time performance is okay, I guess;
And this sure beats driving – the highway’s a
mess.
But the express train is slowing! We shouldn’t
stop here!
“What’s wrong on the railroad?” they queried in
fear.
They all checked their watches. “We’ll be two
minutes late.”
“I’m very important! Don’t stop! I can’t wait!”
The loudspeaker crackled, all ears went
a-twitch.
The engineer spoke, his voice catching a hitch.
“Forgive the delay, folks,” (He sounded
uptight).
“There’s something out there that just isn’t
right.”
“There’s a man on the tracks in my headlight
ahead,”
“He’s got a big belly, and his suit is all red.”
On the railroad, of course, all-red means you
stop.
The express did just that. The schedule was
shot.
“We’re close to him now,” word crackled on back.
“He’s waving his arms, he’s lugging a sack.”
“And blocking Track One is a bell-bedecked
sleigh,
We’ll just have to stop – we regret the delay.”
The passengers grumbled. This must be a stunt.
“It’s those newsletter people!” said one with a
grunt.
I know what they’ve done,” said another, in
rage.
“They just had to ll this @%#&@$ last page!”