Aye Reuben lad, ye missed a treat
Last Friday when you failed to meet
One hundred transportation men
Convened from city, burg and glen,
For the second yearly dinnerfest
Of fish and fowl and sparkling jest.
They sought the board from moor and fen:
Hoot mon! they were blythe, merry men.
From out the dome peered twinkling stars
Which shone on knights of boats and cars: