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Shakin oan the seat
Wi’ its chrome-haunnelt back
Tae the nyang-nyang rhythm
O’ the wheels on the track.
Rinnin frae the Depot
Tae the Ferry an back.
In an upstairs cab wi’ its slidin door
Above the driver staunin
Pushin pedals tae the floor
Steerin wi the deed-mans haunle
Mid the traffics roar
While the black-bagged clippie
Whirrs her silver machine.
Inside this tramcaur
It’s plain tae be seen
Amang these travellin folk
The clippie’s the queen,
Haunin oot tickets,
Ready wi a laugh,
Haud oan ticht.
C’mon get aff!
Slappin at the haun
O’ some wee nyaff!
Doon through the Croass,
Under the Station,
Oot past the tenements
Oan we’re racin.
Wee bauchle wimmen
Wi bulging bags.
Hard men haunle hingin’
Puffin at fags,
Dreepy nosed weans
Aw headin fur schule,
Teenage lassies aye actin the fool.
Tram caur magic is really queer
Aw human kind passes through here
After aw these years it’s still a treat
Mindin back tae sittin’ oan a tramcaur seat
Shooglin an’ jigglin’ doon a Glesca street
Aw the wey tae the Clyde, it’s better than a bus,
Then aw the wey back
Tae the Terminus.
George McEwan
Glasgow
June 2nd 2005
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