On the way back
My little lad was knackered
And I was indebted
To Retford
For arriving when it did
As I wasn’t feeling so cosy myself,
Although Doncaster
Could’ve arrived faster
As I was faltering rapidly
And we still had to change trains there,
But as it happened
When we arrived
The bustle of the mainline
King’s Cross beehive
Was replaced
By the more sedate pace
Of a provincial interchange
And we were able to be about
Our business of switching
More quickly
Than I thought we would,
And as he
Was half asleep
There was little fuss
To bother us
And we were soon home
And in our comfort zone
Quicker
Than a hiker
On a downhill bike,
And thankful
For the ways
Of grace.
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