"The demand for 'Buses is immensely stimulated by their
presence, and when they are no longer there, the people who
thought them indispensable get on very well indeed without
them.... Under the influence of penny fares, Londoners are
rapidly forgetting how to walk."--_The Times_.
Ah! it's all very fine, my good Sir, whosomever you are as writes such,
But of decent poor folk and their needs it is plain as you do not know
much.
Which I ain't quite so young as I was, nor as light, nor as smart on my
feet,
And you may not know quite what it is to be out late o' night and dead
beat,
Out Islington way, arter ten, with a bundle, a child, and a cage,
As canaries is skeery at night, and a seven mile walk, at my age,
All along of no 'Bus to be had, love or money, and cabs that there dear,
And a stitch in my side and short breath, ain't as nice as you
fancy,--no fear!
Likeways look at my JOHN every morning, ah! rain, hail or shine, up to
town,
With no trams running handy, and corns! As I sez to my friend Mrs. BROWN,
Bless the 'Buses, I sez, they're a boon to poor souls, as must travel
at times,
And we can't _all_ keep kerridges neither, wus luck! Penny Fares ain't
no crimes,
If you arsk me, as did ought to know. Which my feelings I own it does rouge
To hear big-wigs a-sneering at 'Buses. There may be a bit of a scrouge,
And the smell of damp straw mixed with pep'mint ain't nice to a dalicot
nose,
Likeways neat "Oh be Joyful's" a thing as with orange and snuff hardly
goes.
But we ain't all rekerky nor rich, we can't all afford sixpence a mile,
And when we are old, late, and tired, or it's wet, we can't think about
_style_.
The 'Bus is the poor body's kerridge, young feller--and as for your talk
About not never missing a lift, or forgetting--dear sakes!--_how_ to walk,
And the nice quiet streets and all that; why it's clear _you_ ain't been
a poor clerk
With a precious small "screw," in wet weather. Ah! you wouldn't find it
no lark
With thin boots and a 'ard 'acking cough, and three mile every day to and
thro',
Or a puffy old woman like me, out at Witsuntide wisiting JOE,
(My young son in the greengrocer line); or a governess, peaky and pale,
As has just overslep herself slightly, and can't git by cab or by rail.
"Ugly lumbering wehicles?" Ah! and we're ugly and lumbering too,
A lot of us poor Penny 'Bus fares, as isn't high-born or true-blue.
But the 'Bus is our help. Wery like some do ride as had far better walk,
Whether tip-toppy swells or poor shop-girls. But all that is trumpery talk.
What I arsk is, why shouldn't the 'Buses be kept a bit reglar, like Cabs,
In the matter of fares and of distances? Oh, a old woman it crabs
To hear of Perprietors pinching pore fellers as drive or conduck,
While the "Pirates" play up merry mag with the poor helpless fare, as gets
stuck
Betwixt Dividend-grinders and Strikers? It ought to be altered, _I_ say.
Whilst they talk of what 'Bus-folk should earn, they forget the pore
Publick--who _pay_!
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