Waiting for the train

Deep down
In bowels of busy
Monument station
High-pitched sad-sounding sing-song plea
Of guitar-playing
Strolling minstrel
Hopeful and or desperate
To part pennies from
Snugness of purses and
Pants’ pockets
Of darting dashing
Daily commuters and shoppers
Caught
On the hop
Cold-sold
Oasis’, Coldplay’ and other
Obscure anthems and tunes
From early nineties
To now!

Tempted
But not drawn,
By said sad-sounding sing-song plea,
Resilience entrenched
By tough taut tightness of
Pants’ pockets
And being Yorkshire up-brought,
Albeit not born but,
Bred
To resist
All and any audacious attempts
To be parted from
Hard-earned wage-slave pay
Pension pot.

High-pitched sad-sounding sing-song plea,
In ears, ringing rattling round,
Played guilt-games with mind
Was I being mean?
Was I being unkind
Not to part with pennies
Snuggly warm inside
Pants’ pockets?
After all
Oasis’ not really very bad
At all
But Coldplay’ and other songs
Singer sang,
Sadly, not up my street
And I didn’t see why I,
Yer bugger man,
Should pay hard-earned cash
To every single sing-song strolling minstrel
Singing sad-sounding songs that I didn’t even
Know or like!

It’s not as if the high-pitched
Sad-sounding sing-song strolling minstrel
Was singing songs sung say by the likes of
The Beatles
Al Bowlly
Buddy Holly
Johnny Cash
Otis Rush
Hank Williams
Willie Nelson
The Drifters
The Everly Brothers
Blood Sweat and Tears
J D Loudermilk
Kris Kristofferson
The Moody Blues
Black Sabbath
Tom Paxton
Don Gibson
Martin Carthy
Elmore James
Roy Orbison
The Four Tops
The Temptations
The Rolling Stones
Junior Walker and the All Stars
The Travelling Wilbury’s
Bob Dylan
Pete Scott
Or
Jimmie Rodgers

In which case I might, just,
Have picked some pennies
From my tough taut tight pants’
Pockets.

But, he wasn’t!

So

Though

Pants’ pockets were not empty
And my heart was full of pain
I didn’t part with any money
While waiting for the train!