Listen to the track:
đ” Number 48
We are blessed with an infrequent bus service..
Verse 1
It’s the 48, red and white,
Turns up right, when it runs, it's right.
Southland Park to Royal Parade,
Best chance you've got without a car to trade.
It hums through lanes with hedges wide,
One lifeline on the countryside.
We nod, we know, it’s part of here,
But still too rare to drop the gears.
Chorus
It comes. It matters.
But it won’t take you home after dark.
It’s proof they remember
But not enough to leave your car in park.
The 48, we cheer it on,
But it’s not enough to lean upon.
We wave. We ride.
Then drive.
Verse 2
One in the morning, one mid-day,
Miss it once' you don’t get a say.
Wembury waits, but Plymouth moves,
And the route’s too thin for modern grooves.
No night run, no Sunday game,
You check the app, the time’s the same.
A badge of pride, a thread of red,
But most folks drive instead.
Chorus
It comes. It counts.
But it won’t get you home from work.
It shows they’re trying
But the gaps still leave us in the lurch.
The 48, icon in name,
But it can’t play the whole damn game.
We nod. We ride.
Then drive.
Bridge
We’re not asking for the moon,
Just a ride that runs past noon.
A way to move without a loan,
A way that doesn’t mean “alone.”
Final Chorus
The 48, we know its face,
The only link to outer place.
It rolls. We smile.
Then drive.