It is a steady rhythm,

It is a steady rhythm,

Much more relaxing

Than an aeroplane

With its high pitched

Background squeal

Punching into your ears,

Drowning out the sound

Of crying babies and

Nervous drinkers.

The constant pressure

Behind the eyes,

You must land soon

Or they will pop right out

And there is no stopping

The nagging fear

The person next to you

Is a terrorist,

With plastic explosive

In the sole of his shoe,

And a well developed

Death wish,

Bursting to come true.

It is easier than driving

With its stop start

Accelerate and brake

I wonder how long

It will take

For the traffic to clear

…Are we there yet?

Back seat drivers

Surfing the net.

Blinded by spray

Windscreen wipers

Going full pelt,

Never drive too close

To the car in front,

It is all too easy

For you to lose control,

Skid and have a shunt.

The whine of engine noise

Drowns out the radio,

Which is turned up so loud

It begins to hurt the ears,

But not quite so much

As it does in the… not so easy jet,

With its sharp edged

Economy seats,

Which never seem to fit,

No matter how you try to sit.

And if a window bursts

You will be sucked right out,

And it is airless out there.

How can that be civilised.

It is not like a steam train

The older the better,

Plush rosewood and leather,

The orient express,

Ahh bless.

A Pullman coach,

With its

Repetitive chitter chatter,

Rattle and hum,

Clitter clatter.

And a rhythmic sway,

A gentle waltz,

That lulls you to sleep

Until the next stop,

When you can get up

And pop out

To the paper shop,

For a soft drink and a mars bar.

Oh my,

How this beats the plane,

Or the motor car.

So much more civilised

By far.