The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

338
Says each to each, "We're simpletons, or sad deceivers, some of us;
And I am sure, ma'am, I don't know whatever will become of us."
THE RAILWAY TRAVELER'S FAREWELL TO HIS FAMILY.
PUNCH.
'T was business call'd a Father to travel by the Rail;
His eye was calm, his hand was firm, although his cheek was pale.
He took his little boy and girl, and set them on his knee;
And their mother hung about his neck, and her tears flowed fast and
free.
I'm going by the Rail, my dears--ELIZA, love, don't cry--
Now, kiss me both before I leave, and wish Papa good-by.
I hope I shall be back again, this afternoon, to tea,
And then, I hope, alive and well, that your Papa you'll see.
I'm going by the Rail, my dears, where the engines puff and hiss;
And ten to one the chances are that something goes amiss;
And in an instant, quick as thought--before you could cry "Ah!"
An accident occurs, and--say good-by to poor Papa!
Sometimes from scandalous neglect, my dears, the sleepers sink,
And then you have the carriages upset, as you may think.
The progress of the train, sometimes, a truck or coal-box checks,
And there's a risk for poor Papa's, and every body's necks.
Or there may be a screw loose, a hook, or bolt, or pin--
Or else an ill-made tunnel may give way, and tumble in;
And in the wreck the passengers and poor Papa remain
Confined, till down upon them comes the next Excursion-train.
If a policeman's careless, dears, or if not over-bright,
When he should show a red flag, it may be he shows a white;
Between two trains, in consequence, there's presently a clash,
If poor Papa is only bruised, he's lucky in the smash.
Points may be badly managed, as they were the other day,