Tram Bell
TRAM BELL
Steep streets everywhere you played,
Where your football would roll away forever;
And sawdust spilt out of the butcher’s onto the steep sidewalk
Among the feet of the tram queue,
All listening keenly to hear the bell sounding
From the tram which was overdue.
All gazing distantly over the rainy Team Valley
And its mills and foundries turning coal
Into steel bridges and ship hulls
For the steeply entrenched Tyne.
At the bell’s sound, everybody shuffled forward,
Leaving the sawdust footprints
To be washed away in the rain.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2018
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