The Seasoned Commuter

The Seasoned Commuter On The platform for ten to seven No more trains if I get to heaven Coffee and paper held in each hand Bought a new ticket, cost me four grand! The train is on time, not running late I need three hands or maybe a plate? I’m near the front so should get a seat I hate to stand, packed in like meat. Here comes the train it seems so slow But it’s just the start of my daily woe. The doors fly open and in I rush A dig in the ribs and a poke in the mush! Just keep going, just hope and pray I want my seat for the money I pay Made it, got it, next to Tim Bit of a squeeze but he’s not so grim An hour and ten if we run to time And I’m going nowhere, this seat is mine!