If Good King Wenceslas worked remotely

One thing Wenceslas forgot, going to a meeting,
Was to check his travel app, right before his leaving.
Brightly shone the queue that night, right around the corner,
Squeezing onto the slow train, hotter than a sauna.

Would he make it, or be late, there’s no way of telling,
Who’s that standing on his foot, and what is that he’s smelling?
“Sorry, no, I can’t move down, so please stop your shouting,”
Noisy schoolkids everywhere, on a Christmas outing.

Bring him food and bring him wine, bring him something quickly,
No time to eat before he left, and now he’s feeling sickly.
Maybe he should just get off, walking might be better?
Through the cold wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.

“Sir, the doors are closing now, it won’t be much longer.”
“That’s easy for you to say, your faith is clearly stronger!”
At last the train is pulling out, the wheels are turning boldly,
But threat of more commuter rage, chills his blood more coldly.

This should have been a conference call, he wishes he’d insisted,
Then he could have been at home, having tea and biscuits.
The moral of this tale, for sure, just in case you’re guessing,
Remote working’s the only way, to avoid all the stressing.



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