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Home  »  library  »  Song  »  John Godfrey Saxe (1816–1887)

C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

John Godfrey Saxe (1816–1887)

Rhyme of the Rail

SINGING through the forests,

Rattling over ridges,

Shooting under arches,

Rumbling over bridges,

Whizzing through the mountains,

Buzzing o’er the vale,—

Bless me! this is pleasant,

Riding on the Rail!

Men of different “stations”

In the eye of fame,

Here are very quickly

Coming to the same.

High and lowly people,

Birds of every feather,

On a common level

Traveling together!

Gentlemen in shorts,

Looming very tall;

Gentlemen at large,

Talking very small;

Gentlemen in tights,

With a loose-ish mien;

Gentlemen in gray,

Looking rather green;

Gentlemen quite old,

Asking for the news;

Gentlemen in black,

In a fit of blues;

Gentlemen in claret,

Sober as a vicar;

Gentlemen in Tweed,

Dreadfully in liquor!

Stranger on the right,

Looking very sunny,

Obviously reading

Something rather funny;

Now the smiles grow thicker,—

Wonder what they mean?

Faith, he’s got the Knicker-

Bocker Magazine!

Stranger on the left,

Closing up his peepers,—

Now he snores amain,

Like the Seven Sleepers;

At his feet a volume

Gives the explanation,

How the man grew stupid

From “Association”!

Ancient maiden lady

Anxiously remarks

That there must be peril

’Mong so many sparks:

Roguish-looking fellow,

Turning to a stranger,

Says it’s his opinion

She is out of danger!

Woman with her baby,

Sitting vis-à-vis:

Baby keeps a-squalling,

Woman looks at me;

Asks about the distance,

Says it’s tiresome talking,

Noises of the cars

Are so very shocking!

Market-woman careful

Of the precious casket,

Knowing eggs are eggs,

Tightly holds her basket;

Feeling that a smash,

If it came, would surely

Send her eggs to pot

Rather prematurely!

Singing through the forests,

Rattling over ridges,

Shooting under arches,

Rumbling over bridges,

Whizzing through the mountains,

Buzzing o’er the vale,—

Bless me! this is pleasant,

Riding on the Rail!