Any fool can think of words that rhyme
A quick lunchtime walk to the bank while it's open,
A breath of fresh air, get away from my desk.
Turn right off Holborn and south down to Fleet Street,
I'm taking my chances on Chancery Lane.
Scaffolding's blocked off the westerly pavement
And narrowed the other, and closed half the road.
Head-down commuters in suits squeeze past barriers,
They're taking their chances on Chancery Lane.
Taxis pull over, and more taxis pass them
While cycles and motorbikes slip through the gaps.
Under the building works, out with the traffic,
We're taking our chances on Chancery Lane.
Roped access men drink their tea wearing harnesses,
Hard hats and work boots in line with the rules.
Banksmen stand by wearing fluorescent orange.
They're taking no chances on Chancery Lane.
Electrical cables drip water down collars
In time with the clatter and shouts from above.
The crane arm swings over, the lorry reverses,
I'm taking my chances on Chancery Lane.