The following is based on a true story told to me by my flatmate. Here, re-told in verse and in her voice.
I took a train to London town one day in February
A journey I would not forget for this is what happened to me:
I sat at a tabled seat – you know, the ones where two face two
And as we pulled away, two drunks approached from out of the blue
The two men sat at my same berth, before me and beside
And every time one smiled at me, I died a little inside;
His teeth were rotten, breath was foul; his skin was rugged, limp and white
And every time he slurred his words I died a little inside
My neighbour spoke to me foul words, half in jest and half insult
But I remained polite for fear a fight may otherwise result
He hurled abuse accross the carriage at an Asian family
The turned to me and showed he bore a swastika under his sleeve
“I left the prison just today,” declared the drunken savage,
“And I’m going home to my bonnie lass to ask her hand in marriage”
His friend exclaimed, “excuse my pal, he’s normally not this bad;
We’re getting off at the next stop.” For this I was truly glad.
Then up they stood, up went their hoods, and they turned to another drunken pack
“Yer all a bunch o wankers, eh!” — Oh kettle! Oh pot! Oh black! Oh black!
And on the platform they did stand swaggering side to side
And thinking of their brides to be I died a little inside …