The hospital smelt of disinfectants, potions, polish and ether,

Cleanliness, important odours, in the waiting room, leather, 

A policeman, in a passage, holding his helmet by its chin strap,

He had appeared with a young girl, upset, bleeding sat in his lap.

Many sad people wandered about around the waiting rooms,

Smoking cigarettes, staring blindly, watching cleaners with brooms,

An old man in pain, had caught his fingers in a train door,

Rocking with pain, and impatience, he should have been seen before.

Looking through a door was a snow white room,

A man in white was deftly bandaging a wound,

Then a comotion doctors nurses running around,

Two policemen carrying a man that had been knocked to the ground.