On The Buses (Disgusting) Poem by PAUL COLVIN

A tickly cough, a baby cries
Mum cleans her nose and dries her eyes
Her fingers delved in baby’s face
A dirty hanky, commonplace.

She wipes her hand on where she rests
And then adjusts her massive breasts
She wipes the sweat beneath her arms
Just one of many disgusting charms.

Her itching leg deserves a scratch
Is that a flea she’s trying to catch?
Scratching nails kill off the itch,
What else is there, you filthy bitch?

She can’t sit still and makes a fuss
As she goes to sleep on a busy bus.
Her baby cries but she just snores
At first a little then she roars!

Now she’s getting on my wick
She’s burping now and her baby’s sick,
She makes no effort to clean the mess
As it all runs down the baby’s dress.

The stench is wafting through the bus
And now it’s hitting all of us
The driver’s even lost the plot
And stops and says you’ve had your lot.

The first to go is the filthy bitch
She stands up, gives her skirt a hitch.
That cloth would make a six berth tent
And she should be paying ground rent!

She’s wider than the bus itself
And turns sideways to ease herself
Through the doors but sticks halfway,
What a start to a brand new day.