But she watches Number 6 whilst going half a mile.
And the gay conductor while he’s throwing kisses there,
Doesn’t hear the signals given by an aged pair,
Though the man, as best he can, whistles loud and shrill,
And the wife, as though for life, charges down the hill.
And the blameful driver, while he gazes wistful back,
Doesn’t see the little child a creeping on the track.
Soon the jury summoned there to question how it died,
Will as their opinion give, “a case of suicide;”
And the driver and his mate acquitted from all blame,