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Poem by John Godfrey Saxe
Rhyme of the Rail
SINGING through the forests, Rattling over ridges, Shooting under arches, Rumbling over bridges, Whizzing through the mountains, Buzzing o'er the vale,-- Bless me! this is pleasant, Riding on the Rail! Men of different "stations" In the eye of Fame Here are very quickly Coming to the same. High and lowly people, Birds of every feather, On a common level Traveling together! Gentleman in shorts, Looming very tall; Gentleman at large, Talking very small; Gentleman in tights, With a loose-ish mien; Gentleman in gray, Looking rather green. Gentleman quite old, Asking for the news; Gentleman in black, In a fit of blues; Gentleman in claret, Sober as a vicar; Gentleman in Tweed, Dreadfully in liquor! Stranger on the right, Looking very sunny, Obviously reading Something rather funny. Now the smiles are thicker, Wonder what they mean? Faith, he's got the KNICKER- BOCKER Magazine! Stranger on the left, Closing up his peepers; Now he snores amain, Like the Seven Sleepers; At his feet a volume Gives the explanation, How the man grew stupid From "Association"! Ancient maiden lady Anxiously remarks, That there must be peril 'Mong so many sparks! Roguish-looking fellow, Turning to the stranger, Says it's his opinion She is out of danger! Woman with her baby, Sitting vis-a-vis; Baby keeps a squalling; Woman looks at me; Asks about the distance, Says it's tiresome talking, Noises of the cars Are so very shocking! Market-woman careful Of the precious casket, Knowing eggs are eggs, Tightly holds her basket; Feeling that a smash, If it came, would surely Sent her eggs to pot Rather prematurely! Singing through the forests, Rattling over ridges, Shooting under arches, Rumbling over bridges, Whizzing through the mountains, Buzzing o'er the vale,-- Bless me! this is pleasant, Riding on the Rail!
John Godfrey Saxe
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