The surface car is a poky car,
It stops ’most every minute.
At every corner someone gets out
And someone else gets in it.
It stops for a lady, an auto, a hoss,
For any old thing that wants to cross,
This poky old, stupid old, silly old, timid old, lumbering surface car.
Up on high against the sky
The elevated train goes by.
Above it soars, above it roars
On level with the second floors
Of dirty houses, dirty stores
Who have to see, who have to hear
This noisy ugly monster near.
And as it passes hear it yell,
“I’m the deafening, deadening, thunderous, hideous,
competent, elegant el.”
Under the ground like a mole in a hole,
I tear through the white tiled tunnel,
With my wire brush on the rail I rush
From station to lighted station.
Levers pull, the doors fly ope’,
People press against the rope.
And some are stout and some are thin
And some get out and some get in.
Again I go. Beginning slow
I race, I chase at a terrible pace,
I flash and I dash with never a crash,
I hurry, I scurry with never a flurry.
I tear along, flare along, singing my lightning song,
“I’m the rushing, speeding, racing, fleeting, rapid subway car.”
THE SUBWAY CAR
Whew-ee-ee-ee-ew-ew went the siren whistle. And all the men and all the women hurried toward the factory. For that meant it was time to begin work. Each man and each woman went to his particular machine. The steam was up; the belts were moving; the wheels were whirring; the piston rods were shooting back and forth. And one man made a piece of wheel, and one man made a part of a brake, and one man made a belt, and one man made a leather strap, and one man made a door, and one man made some straw-covered seats, and one man made a window-frame, and one man made a little wire brush. And then some other men took all these things and began putting them together. And when the car was finished some other men came and painted it, and on the side they painted the number 793.
The car stood on the siding wondering what he was for and what he was to do. Suddenly he heard another car come bumping and screeching down the track. Before the new car could think what was happening,—bang!—the battered old car went smash into him. This seemed to be just what the man standing along side expected. For the car felt him swing on to the steps, and shout “Go ahead.” At the same minute the car felt a piece of iron slip from his own rear and hook into the front of the other car.