Elegy On A Red Double Decker Bus

Elegy On A Red Double Decker Bus

Red double decker bus,
where are you now?
Are you only in London?
Did you rise on your back wheels
to take your last bow?
I sat on your top deck
when you took me to school
or for a day out in town
as we call Liverpool.
Seems that you have gone
with the steam engine and tram,
so much has vanished,
sometimes in a haze it is hard
to know where I am.
Up the dull silver steps
came the bus conductor,
his ticket box and money bag
by a black strap
hung from his neck.
I paid him my pennies,
got off at my stop,
down from the top deck.
Present day single deck buses
lack bigness and charm,
with only a driver and no conductor,
they look too one level and calm.
But ferries still cross the Mersey,
and the Liver Birds still sit and stare
on the Liver Buildings roof.
That The Beatles were born here,
for tourists and locals,
there’s plenty of proof.
The old red brick tobacco warehouse,
I pass by on the train,
looks like the shell of a fortress,
forbidding in winter,
lashed by the rain.
Whoever comes after us
will not know the pleasure to ride
on the top deck of a red double decker bus.


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