We’d sit amongst the megatheriums
And others with hard names—I scarce can tell ’em
One from the other—nobody can spell ’em;
We’d have no friend with us the live long day
Third parties, dear, are always in the way,
And when night came, down at the railway station
Mid’st hundreds in a state of agitation
We’d guess which carriage should convey us home
As to the platform’s side the train would come—
Say dost thou like the picture?