Until they heard the whistle go, I guess,
For Time an' Time eternal. All the same
It makes me proper down at heart and sick
To see the lads go laughing off to play;
I'd sell my bloomin' soul to have a kick—
But what's the good of talkin', anyway?
"If we were suddenly to be deprived of the fast underground train, and presented with a sparse service of steam trains in sulphurous tunnels, the result on our tempers and the rate of our travelling would be—well, electric!"—Pall Mall Gazette.
We have tried to think of a less appropriate word than "electric," but have failed miserably.