Did you e’er hear of driver like young William Jones?
He stopp’d not for water, he stopp’d not for coke,
And he skimm’d o’er the streams render’d black by his smoke;
But when at the station he slacken’d his rate,
The up-train had started, the down-train came late;
And a laggard in travel, a luggage-train guard,
Was to wed the fair Polly of Jones’s regard.
“I long woo’d your daughter, my suit you denied;
Love swells like a steam-valve, and bursts when it’s tied;
And now I am come, with my lost Polly B.