In his pocket
For change he did fumble
And purchased a ticket for Leeds;
He popped on a bus
Forgot all the fuss
And read the instructions on a packet of seeds
(That somebody had left there, by mistake).
But, unlucky Bertram Bumble
Was done up like a kipper
And never to Leeds did he go
For the ticket he’d bought
(Which he shouldn’t ought)
Was a third-class one-way ticket
On the deck of a night boat to Cairo.
“But this is madness!” he cried.
“The ticket-office lied
When they sold me this pig in a poke!”
But, a young lady, of looks,
Looked up from her books
And offered him succour and warmth.
She said: “You look like you’re lost,
If you’ve the price of a cup of tea
And some ‘tost’ (pronounced as in ‘tossed’)
I’ll show you the right way to go.”
“Some ‘tost’? Bertram asked
(For his brain had been tasked)
And he didn’t know what a ‘tost’ was.
“Yes, some ‘tost’ hot and buttered.”
“Oh, toast!’ Bertram uttered.
“I didn’t quite know what you meant.”
“Tost!” Clarified the young lady,
In a voice cool and shady,
“Is a rare Northern delicacy
That cures men of celibacy
And furthers the future of life.”