Shoppers mingling, tills tingling
Pavement packed, hot and whacked.
Someone running, Urgent, stunning
Going fast. "Let me past!"
Sideways scurry. "What's the hurry?"
Answer mumbled. Words jumbled.
"What'd he say?" "What's happened?" "Hey!"
"Must find out", two people shout
And start to chase. Quickened pace.
Now there's three. Those two and he.
"Are you manic?" "What's the panic?"
"What's occurred?" One asks the third.
"I'll ask once more." And now there's four.
Four running west. Against the rest.
They hustle by. No one knows why
But start to fear that trouble's near.
"Tell us our fate!" And now there's eight.
And soon it's ten. A dozen then.
And east they shoot. Some more take suit.
Then more and more. A crowd galore,
All running wild. A pensioner, a little child
Join the throng. Don't know what's wrong.
They don't know why. Just do or die.
Others drop their bags and run. Everyone
Is joining in. Old and young and fat and thin.
Now no one's still. By fear or thrill,
No holding back, tag on the back.
And run like hell. If someone fell,
They stayed like that. Trampled flat.
All of one mind. Leave the town behind.
They ran, they dropped, exhausted, stopped
In pain they cried, fell by the side,
But one by one, they stopped their run.
Til just a few were able to
Keep up the pace, to keep their place,
Then they as well, gave in and fell.
In groups they straggled, done, bedraggled.
So much dismay, and to this day
No-one knows why on their toes
They upped and fled, why they were led
To stampede thus. Why all the fuss?
But one young lad had thought his dad
Would be in a state, if he was late
For dinner.