Back There

[thestoryteller]

BACK THERE

"You'll have to go to Brisbane sir," my doctor said to me,
"so one of them there Specialists can see your gammy knee.
Some friends said I could stay with them and take a train to town,
but thought I'd take my walking stick, old knee might let me down.

The lady at the ticket box she gave me quite a scare,
my train had just pulled in you see, she didn't seem to care.
I handed her five dollars then she gave me back my change;
a fare to town was sixty cents, four forty should exchange.

'Twas only when I sat on down I looked at what I had,
the change I saw was fifty cents, her 'rithmetic was bad.
Too late the train was under way, I'd have to ride it through,
and ask someone at Roma Street, what had a bloke to do.

The porter was a decent chap; he'd sort the matter out,
"My workmate at the ticket box has made a blue no doubt."
I sat and waited while he phoned, he swung 'round on his chair,
"No worries mate, we are at fault, your change is back down there.

I'm running late enough, I thought, and really had to go,
it seemed I'd have to go back there, to get my money though.
'Twas all the money that I brought to pay to get back there,
how was a bloke to pay the cost of finding a new fare.

Just go and see your Doctor mate, then catch the train back there.
We won't charge you for that old son; I think that's only fair.
The exit from the Station though, down stairs, was quite a grind
and limped away with stick in hand to leave it all behind.

Then shuffling through the city crowds was really kind of tough,
as dodging folk was new to me, my knee had dodged enough.
When luckily I found the place that I was looking for,
though still a bloke had yet to climb some forty stairs or more.

That specialist then pulled and yanked my gammy knee about,
"Arthritis in your bones old mate and painful too no doubt,
there's little one can do," he said, "but give it rest and care".
I guess he simply did not know I had to get back there.

"I thank you for your time," I said, and battled down the stairs,
to fight my way through lunch-time crowds and rather vacant stares.
I did not have the energy to take on Roma Street,
and thought, that Central’s closer mate, for aching knees and feet.

The streets were steep enough I thought when more stairs came to bear,
to reach the platform and the train to take me back down there.
"Your ticket sir?" a Porter asked, I then had to explain.
It nearly brought me down to tears to tell it once again.

"You've got a problem all right sir, to pay your return fare,
but platform two is where you go, to catch the train back there."
So down the stairs I went once more and up another set,
then finally I reached the top, I guessed I'd make it yet.

"Your ticket sir," the Porter asked, I thought, oh, not again.
"I've had enough of this," I cried, "you'll drive a bloke insane."
"It's not my problem sir,” she said, "I only want your fare."
"That's it!" I got my Irish up, 'twas more than I could bear.

"Your rude and inconsiderate, you make it so darn tough,
just let me catch my train back there, my poor knees had enough."
"You cannot talk to me like that, I'm calling the S.M!"
"The best idea you've had!" I yelled, "why not call two of them."

"I see your problem sir," he said, "you'll have to go back there."
"Don't say," I sneered, "you've worked it out, I'm glad you seem to care."
At last a bloke was on his way all nightmares have an end,
though this one ended just in time, near sent me 'round the bend.

Once more I climbed the over pass the ticket box below,
at last I'd made it back down there, a few more steps to go.
"Your change sir, and sorry sir, for causing such a fuss."
"We all can make mistakes," I said, "next time I'll catch a bus."

© Merv Webster

From the book A Muster of Verse and Yarns