The northern line we followed from Barnet,
and now from the Bank we will continue,
over London Bridge, pass the Cathedral,
and at Borough Market, we pass on through.
For we will be descending deeper south,
seeking the hidden, unusual, and true,
leaving the nearby other ‘must sees’,
to the tourist looking for the queue.

We step outside on medieval streets,
‘This is not a photo opportunity’
next to the Thirdhand Book Emporium,
among philanthropy and cruelty.
Cross Bones Graveyard, where Winchester Geese now
rest in peace, people are in unity.
look up, to Little Dorrit on St George,
while Alfred the Great stands in Trinity

To the rooftop gallows where Dickens would watch,
as the callous crowd cheer, when the noose was tied.
Nearby in the ‘Lane’, a workhouse boy, destined
for the limelight, the ‘Little Tramp’ first cried.
At Brandon, a reclining figure does hide,
an Henry Moore, stirred, as the Tardis arrived.
Break at Kennington? Then, we can be heroes!
for remembering Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide.

Hey!
‘we gonna rock down to, Electric Avenue,’
‘and then we take it higher’
no, uphill! Looking to the tower
and on to Brockwell Park, for the view,
and lunch.
Eleven miles behind us, we leave.
for ‘Bal–ham, Gateway to the South’,tease
Art Deco, Wandsworth, the Common, leads
to the Wandle to follow and weave
to reach Morden, the last station on
the Northern Line. All change please!