GIRL ON THE BUS
(John Rostill)

Sometimes when I look from my window I’ll see
A beautiful stranger who beckons to me 
I know where she comes from 
But where does she go 
One day I’ll go with her and then I shall know

Each day when she passes at ten twenty-three 
Her eyes find my window 
She’s smiling at me 
I run to the stairs 
But too late she is gone 
She’ll back tomorrow at a quarter past one 

On Sundays I miss her 
She doesn’t come back 
I don’t know the reason 
Guess I’ll never know why 
She may go away for the weekend 
But then she’ll come back on Monday at twenty past ten 

The week passes quickly and often I’ll see 
That beautiful stranger who beckons to me 
She stands on an island surrounded by sea 
And the smile on her lip says fly B.O.A.C.