Rocking, rocking side to side
and back to front and near then wide.
Watch the country flying by
watch the trees and sunset sky
watch the woman, watch the dog
watch the night and watch the fog.
Wondering where the people go
who they’ll see and who they know.
Why they read the Sunday Times
why I never pick words that rhymes.
Why the girl with all the shoes
sits in the corridor next to the loos.
Rocking, rocking forward and back
and side to side upon the track
on and on into the night
around the hill and out of sight
through the tunnel, out of the rain
sitting squashed upon this train.