The wheels on the bus go
where, I ask?
as I open up my thermos
flask.

The tea inside is warm and
wet,
Like the seat in the bus
on which I set
My heart, on going from
here to there.

It rumbles up and
rumbles down
While the wheels on the bus go
into town,
on route to the shop
I need to find,
to work hard, at my
daily grind.

The word on the pole says
STOP
In time for the wheels
To POP!
The air in the tyre goes
Pshh, pshh, pshlapp!
while the wheels on the bus shout
Oh no! Another flat!!

The question now, I ask myself
Is how does the bus go
Anywhere,
When the wheels are as flat
as a wheel can bare?

The tyre man comes, a kit
To repair,
The tyre that is flat
With some glue and air.

His job well done, and paid
A Pound,
Once more the wheels go
Round and round!!