TRACKS FOR THE TIMES.
[A Magistrate has just decided that the Police have a right to interfere with the growing practice of using the public roads of the Metropolis at night-time as running-grounds for athletes.]
I come from haunts of smoke and grime,
I start in some blind alley,
And race each night against Old Time
Enthusiastically!
I dodge past frightened City gents,
And sometimes send them flying,
Which makes them cherish sentiments
Not wholly edifying.
I wind about, and in and out,
Along the crowded pavement,
While here and there the mockers flout
My costume and behavement.
I slip, I slide, I flash, I flee
Amid the teeming traffic,
And drivers often use to me
Idioms extremely graphic.
I murmur when a Lawyer's view
Absurdly tries to hinder
My turning public roads into
A private path of cinder.
Yet still to "spurt," agile, alert,
Shall be my one endeavour;
For Cits may stare, and Jehus swear,
But I run on for ever!
