At Gower Street I chanced to meet,
One day, a strange old party,
Who tore his hair in wild despair,
Until I thought—"I would not swear,
That you're not mad, my hearty."
"Yes, mad, quite mad. Dear me! How sad!"
I cried; for, to the porter,
He did complain—"Look here! Again
No smoke from any single train
That's passed within the quarter.