WATERLOO STATION

.
Below the many-sided clock
Flocks of pigeons strut and coo;
They dwell
In the stink and smell,
The filthy hell
That is Waterloo.

Coo, little pigeons, coo!
The clock is meaningless to you;
And the food is good
At Waterloo.

And there are others
Who flock to Waterloo:
Twice a day,
Worn and tense,
A huge migration gallops through;
For them the clock is God.

They have no time to strut and coo,
They're running round their frantic zoo;
There's nothing else that they can do,
Because they made it:
It has no other use.

Coo, little pigeons, coo!
We envy you.

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