Along a fixed unalterable route.
(This is an old "bone-shaker." 'Tis a pity!
For over the front wheel one's apt to shoot.)
The traveller's whirled from station unto station,
(I wish there were more stations on this road,)
With hardly half a chance for observation.
(If I know where I am, may I be blowed!),
Without an opportunity to examine
The district. (Wish that I could spot a pub!
For I am overdone with thirst and famine,