And then the Chambermaids has all gone to stand behind mahogany counters at the Stations—though a body would hardly think it—
Vhere they sarves out hot tea and soup, to poor half-starv'd devils of passengers, vot arn't hallowed no time to drink it.
Post Boy.
All the Boots, too, has turned railvay policemen, and hangs out them signals, of vhich you've werry likely heerd speak;
And vhich they uses to purvent the gen'l'men, as is travelling in sitch a werry particular hurry, a being druv slap into the middle of next veek.
Stage Coachman.
Yes! and the vorst of that there cursed railvay is, that vhenever there is a haccident on it—
The're sartin to mangle a person's poor body so, that even the Coroner don't like sitting upon it.
Post Boy.
And though, Vill'am, I've bolted with dozens of heiresses in my time, I an't had a 'lopement for this plaguy long vhile;