Here we are riding the rail,
Gliding from out of the station;
Man though I am, I am pale,
Certain of heat and vexation.
Gliding from out of the station,
Out from the city we thrust;
Certain of heat and vexation,
Sure to be covered with dust.
Out from the city we thrust:
Rattling we run o'er the bridges:
Sure to be covered with dust,
Stung by a thousand of midges.
Rattling we dash o'er the bridges,
Rushing we dash o'er the plain;
Stung by a thousand of midges,
Certain precursors of rain.
Rushing we dash o'er the plain,
Watching the clouds darkly lowering,
Certain precursors of rain:
Fields about here need a showering.
Watching the clouds darkly lowering,—
Track here is high on a bank—
Fields about here need a showering,
Boy with the books needs a spank.
Track here is high on a bank,
Just by a wretched old hovel:
Boy with the books needs a spank—
"No! I don't want a new novel!"
Just by a wretched old hovel,
Small speck of dust in my eye.
"No! I don't want a new novel!"
—Babies beginning to cry.—
Small speck of dust in my eye,
"I will not buy papers or candy!"
—Babies beginning to cry—.
Oh, for a tomahawk handy!
"I will not buy papers or candy!"
Train boys deserve to be slain;
Oh, for a tomahawk handy!
Oh, for the cool of the rain!