Earth has not anything to show more fine
Than that which underpins that mighty heart.
The same arrangement graces yours and mine
But London’s bowels are a world apart.
Embark not on another aimless wander
Go, operate thine Oyster and invest in
An hour or two to ride the rails and ponder
The intricacies of its great intestine.
Scraps of humanity are sucked inside,
Whirling with strangers in unwitting waltzes,
All thrown together in a breathless ride
And squeezed along by merry peristalsis.
Through any of its many mouths man passes
To issue from its omnipresent arses.
Last edited by Ann Drysdale; 08-12-2011 at 11:09 AM.
Reason: Put a full stop in where a semicolon was.
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