On Southern lines the trains which crawl
Deliberately to and fro
Make life a burden; of them all
This is the slowest of the slow.
Impatiently condemned to bear
What is indeed an awful bore,
I've seemed to be imprisoned there
Three days, or more.
The angry passengers complain;
Of new electric cabs they talk.
They sit and swear at such a train,
And ask, "Shall we get out and walk?"
It's true the time seems extra long
When spent in such a wretched way,
My calculation may be wrong--
Three hours, say.
The other day I had to come
By this slow train, but facing me
Was no old buffer, dull and dumb;
I chatted with my vis-a-vis.
A pretty smile, a pretty dress,
Gay spirits no fatigue could crush;
With her it was a quick express,
Three minutes' rush.
For once I sadly left the train,
For once the time too quickly passed.
I still could angrily complain,
Why travel so absurdly fast?
At lightning speed that special went
(I'd paid the ordinary fare),
Now looking back it seems we spent
Three seconds there.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A BANK HOLIDAY SKETCH
_Facetious Individual (from carriage window)._ "Change 'ere, 'ave we?
Then kindly oblige me with a sardine-opener!"]
* * * * *
WEDNESBURY STATION.--_First Collier._ "Trains leave for Birmingham,
10.23 a.m., 6.23 p.m."
_Second Collier._ "What's p.m.?"
_First Do._ "A penny a mile, to be sure."
_Second Do._ "Then, what's a.m.?"
_First Do._ "Why, that must be a a'penny a mile."
* * * * *
[Illustration: RAILWAY LUXURIES
_Excursionist._ "I say--'ere! This water's full o'crumbs!"
_Aquarius._ "That ain't crumbs! That's only the sawdust off the hice!"]
* * * * *