by Julia Griffin

“The annual No Trousers Tube Ride event has returned in colourful fashion as people stripped
down to their underwear and hopped on the London Underground.”
—The Guardian

The annual No Trousers Tube Ride
Is booming as never before!
Don’t stand there and blush like a new bride:
Just push those bare legs through the door!
The suavest, most chic city slickers,
The veriest bumpkin and rube
Are stripping to long johns and knickers
And hopping half-nude on the Tube!

The yearly untrousered commuting
Gives joy to the brightest and best,
From Cockfosters southwards to Tooting,
From Barking to Slough in the west.
We gape at the garters some slyboots
Is flourishing, pert and overt:
(It’s not thought the thing to wear thigh boots,
Or even a scrap of a skirt).

The trouserless troglodyte transport
Cares nothing for sleet or for snow:
The feet of each woman and man sport
Wet socks with a vaporous glow.
What brainwave could serve as a segue?
What vision could match it in pride?
It’s making such headway, such legway,
This rousing, no-trousering ride!