The Song of the Rails

We sit in the carriage with nothing to do.
We've done with the paper; we've read it right through.
Our int'rest in passengers flickers and fails;
So we hark to the song of the clattering rails.

It's a rickety ride --
A rickety ride.
Hope you're enjoying it,
people inside.
Ha! . . . . . . Ha!
Surely you are,
People inside,
Pocket your pride!
It's a rickety, rickety,
Rickety ride.
Poor Mr. Clapp --
Unfortunate chap!
They give him a grilling
Although he is willing.
Intolerant drapers,
Thye write to the papers,
And loudly complain
Concerning the train.
Rickety -- Rickety!
Don't be pernickety,
People inside!
Though it can't be denied,
It's a rickety, rickety,
Rickety ride.
They give him a grilling.
He's willing; he's willing!
He's doing his best,
But they give him no rest.
Still, it can't be denied
It's a rickety ride ....

We're five seconds late!
Do NOT be irate!
Wait! . . . . . Wait!
And bottle your hate.
Pocket your pride --
Pride . . . . . Pride.
It's a rickety ride.
He's willing!  he's willing!
(Your luggage is spi;;ing),
People inside,
It's a rickety ride.
   (Don't be pernickety!)
Still it's a rickety,
Rickety ride,
Rickety ride.
Curb indignation!
Obsreve toleration ....
SIX seconds late!
Wait! . . . . . Wait!
Curn indignation!
Here!  This is your station..
Brrrrr -- ump! -- Bump!
Now!  Out you jump!