As when a solemn bell
Sounds from a little spire
The smock-frocked villagers to tell
"'Tis church time," and they heed the summons well,
Gaffer, and Jarge and Kate, and tiny Nell,
And last of all comes Squire--
So have I heard afar
And pondered on my crimes,
Reader of many a flashy par.
While travelling in the subterranean car,
A voice that murmured, "What a fool you are
Not to take in _The Chimes_!"
I said, "It costs three d.,"
But lied about the cause;
I feared the toils of destiny,
I felt those stately columns close on me,
I shuddered as I rattled like a pea
Citywards without pause.
_Tuppence_! The fearful sound
Pealed like an organ crash;
Once more the mesh was drawing round,
But still I cried, "Economy!" and drowned
The still small voice, and in the Underground
Flaunted _The Daily Flash._
Short shrift for those that err!
Jove has rebuked my sin:
Now, helpless and without demur,
You shall behold me where the tube-lifts purr
Pale captive to the penny _Thunderer_
With supplements heaved in.
Only one thing I cry,
With tears and laughter mixed,
That those who speed or far or nigh
The swift-winged wains of the Electric Ry.,
And furnish them with little thongs whereby
The passengers are fixed.
Shall heed the altered price,
Shall change with changing times,
And run some trains more slow than mice,
Stopping between each station once or twice,
Fitted with lecterns of a fair device
To help me read my _Chimes._