Thoughts in a Train

No doubt she is somebody’s mistress,

    With that Greta Garbo hair,

As she sits, mascara-lidded,

    In the corner seat over there.

But why, if she’s somebody’s mistress,

    Is she travelling up in a Third?

Her luggage is leather, not plastic,

    Her jewelry rich and absurd.

‘Oh I am nobody’s mistress:

    The jewels I wear, you see,

Were, like this leather luggage,

    A present from Mummy to me.

‘If you want to get on with the Government,

    You’ve got to be like it, I’ve heard;

So I’ve booked my suite in the Ritz Hotel

    and I’m travelling up in a Third.’