From Swadlincote I'd take my cue,
But shun as I would shun the scurvy
The perilous atmosphere of Turvey.
But though the tuneful name of Horbling
Incites to further doggerel warbling,
And Gallions, Goonbell, Gamlingay
Are each deserving of a lay,
No railway bard is worth his salt
Who cannot bear to call a "Halt."