The Spike or Victoria College Review 1937
Beside the dim-lit taxi-stand she lingers.
She's all upset, no taxi-cab in sight.
No manly escort, none to squeeze her fingers—
It's far from nice at twelve o'clock at night!
Sudden she pales at sounds of drunken singing—
Some hoodlum, half-seas over, drawing nigh!
He stays, he stops, and round the lamp-post clinging,
Regards her with inebriated eye!
"Poor little girl!" He's full of moist compassion.
"I take you home?" He says it soft and low.
Her heart fast-pounding in a panic fashion,
She thinks to quell him with a crushing "No!"
But ardour's not so ready to be driven.
He leers, the brute—he tries to take her hand!
A feeble scream, a scuffle, then—praise Heaven!—
The taxi sliding swiftly to the stand!
Within she dives, in haste she can't dissemble.
Will he pursue her? One can never tell!
Thank God, they're off! She huddles all a-tremble,
Her forlorn Romeo cries a fond farewell.
Alas, above his bawlings energetic,
A nearer murmur stupefies her quite—
The taxi-man, urbanely sympathetic:
"Your boy-friend just a wee bit fresh to night?"