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About This Poem
Twirly
Tram stops Old lady asks "Am I twirly?"
Conductor looks up tram and shakes his head
On she gets and on we go
As a young lad on the way to school
I often wondered how old one had to be
To be Twirly
Three stops on the way were always empty
Three stops in a row
Trams all stopped
The area was bombed out
No complete houses stood
No one ever asked why they stopped
It made me proud to ride
With folks like that
Twirly or not
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