SWEEPIE Poetry (1)

As we soar into the sky
I scream - 'we're going to die',
And I hear the mutters of disgust
At my making so much fuss,
So I order a double whisky
Even though I know it's risky,
Then dodge the glares from the cabin crew
Whilst dashing frantically to the loo

With sweating hands and swelling feet
Well, I do my best to eat,
But have to pacify my neighbour
For what he calls my foul behaviour,
He's looking green and somewhat mad
Because I've missed the paper bag,
And all my pleas and abundant tears
For another drink - fall on deaf ears

I scream again - 'we're going down'
And yes - we're safely on the ground,
And as I stagger down the aisle
I throw the stewardess a rueful smile,
But I'm perplexed by her rendition
Of her belief in competition,
And as she helps me off the plane
She recommends the high-speed train