The Ballad of the Bounding Bishop

(Told by the Enginedriver) According to a Sydney telegram, when the Rev. Dr. Lang, Archbishop of Melbourne, arrived here by the express yesterday, he sprang off the train and leaped into the middle of the little crowd of clergy waiting to welcome him. "Hello," he said. He had a big smile. He bounded about among the group, shaking hands and laughing.

Yes, I was a-driverin' that train, sir;
    'Twas the Albury night express;
An' me an' my fireman, Benjamin,
    We was feelin', I must confess,
In a bit of a jovial mood that night—
    Real gay, for a fast train's crew;
We was crackin' of jokes on the footplate, sir,
    An' hummin' a toon or two.

We was tootin' of toots on the whistle;
    You might well-nigh call profane;
When the news come come through at a stoppin' place:
    "THERE'S A BISHOP ABOARD THE TRAIN."
There's a Bishop at rest in a sleepin' car,
    A-sleepin' the sleep o' the just."
So I sez, "We must cut this foolin',
    Ben."
An' the fireman sez, "We must."

Well, I dunno 'ow an' I dunno why;
    But a kind o' religious glow
Crept over the train as we start again,
    An' the fireman says to me:
"There is things I've did that I now regret;
    I'm a sinner." I answers, "Ben,
The tone of our train is loose and vain."
An' the fireman sez, "Amen."

There was no more songs there was no more jokes;
   There was no more jovial faces;
An' I tries to whistle an anthem sir,
When we come to the crossin' places.

An' I sez to the fireman, "Ben", I sez;
    "All's vanity 'ere below!"
An' he shovels some coal in the firebox 'ole,
    An' he answers, "Verily, Joe."

Then Ben 'e ups an' 'e 'ums an 'ymn,
    To the heat of the buffetin' rail;
As we steamed down to Sydney town,
    Where the wicked still prevails—
Where I've brought 'er in with a crash an' a din,
    As I vows to never again;
For I feels like a sainted driver, sir,
    A-drivin' a 'oly train.

I glides up slow an' I stops 'er soft,
    As I never 'ave done before,
An' Ben me takes off our caps,
    An' the Bishop opens 'is door:
"Was'is eyes cast down?" Was 'is two
    'ands clasped?
Was 'is beautiful a-blessin'? No!
But the smile on 'is face fair filled the place.
An' the Bishop shouts, "HELLO!"

Then out 'e bounds on the platform, sir,
    Like a real glad 'uman bloke;
Ben looks at me; I looks at Ben,
    An' the Bishop cracks a joke;
I looks at Ben; Ben looks at me,
    For the game was fair confoundin';
Then two glad smiles broke on our dials,
    An' the Bishop went on boundin'.

Then up and down that platform, sir,
    A reel glad feelin' ran;
An' I says to Ben, "Take 'eart, my lad,
    For a Bishop is a MAN:
I've drove for years, MP's and peers,
    Along the shinin' tracks;
But this 'ere bishop done me, Ben,
    An' I 'opes we drive 'im back."