Taxi Saturday

Saturday night upon me again,
its time to tackle the lions den.
so let the evening commence,
need to earn those shillings and pence.

First customer in, moody Lynn
always polite, to begin
Heels are high with a low cut top,
not the finest of the crop!
A scent of irritating musk,
no doubt on the town till dusk.

Off to Yates if you please
to dance the night to disco cheese.

And so the early hours are dawning,
people stumbling, some are crawling.
Bouncers, ready on the door,
to help heel-less ladies off the floor!

And so.. the final customer of the night,
rather dishevelled and impolite.

Breath of whisky, with hints of up with beer,
shouting unnecessarily in my ear.
'Greeewn Blank Woad Drive.. nuhmber five'
not much sense of communication,
blurred slurred pronunciation.

Arriving at the said destination,
now the hapless hesitation.
The search for change or a crumpled note,
scratching at pockets throughout their coat.

'cheeap the shange' they say
open the door and on their way.
Standing upon the street,
staring around at their motionless feet.

I wait for a minute and quietly guess,
if they really are at the right address,
oh well, not my problem
'Good night, God bless'