THE RAILWAY. A SONG. Tune-King of the Cannibal Islands.
1. 'TWAS on a Monday morning soon, As I lay snoring at Dunoon, Dreaming of wonders in the moon, I nearly lost the Railway. So up I got, put on my clothes, And felt, as you may well suppose, Of sleep I scarce had half a dose, Which made my yawns as round as O's; No matter, on went hat and coat; A cup of coffee, boiling hot, I poured like lava down my throat In haste to catch the Railway. Racing, chasing to the shore, Those who fled from every door, There never was such haste before To catch the Greenock Railway.
2. The steam was up, the wind was high, A dark cloud scour'd across the sky, The quarter-deck was scarcely dry, Of the boat that meets the Railway; Yet thick as sheep in market pen, Stood all the Sunday-watering men, Like growling lions in a den, With faces inches five and ten; Some were hurrying to and fro, Others were sick and crying oh! Whose wooden peg's that on my toe? In the boat that meets the Railway. Rushing, crushing up and down, Tipping the cash to Captain B——n; O what a hurry to get to town Upon the morning Railway.
3. When arrived at Greenock Quay, What confusion—only see— Each selfish wight so quickly flee In hopes to catch the Railway. High and low, thick and thin, Trying who the race shall win, Creaking boots and hob-nailed shoon, All determined to get in! People laughing at the shore; Merchants smiling at each door; Those, running who ne'er ran before, And all to catch the Railway! Fleet through Greenock's narrow lanes, Over mud, and dibs and stanes, Careless o' their boots and banes, And all to catch the Railway.
4. See the rear-guard far behind, Out of temper, out of wind, Out of patience, out of mind! For fear they lose the Railway. Last comes old Fatsides with his wife, Waging a real hot-mutton strife; "Such scenes in Scotland sure are rife; It's wery hot upon my life!" "Alack there'll be no room for us— Let's get into the homnibus:" "O pray, my dear! don't make a fuss If we should lose the Railway." Blowing, glowing all the way, Crying upon the train to stay, We'll never get to town to-day, Upon the morning Railway!
5. Now the crowded station gained, Rain be-drenched and mud be-stained, Melting-browed and asthma-pained Hurrying to the Railway! A boat has just arrived before, Which later left a nearer shore, And fills a full-sized train and more, Which is a most confounded bore; But coach to coach are quickly joined— Which surely is surpassing kind; And off we fly as fleet as wind, Upon the Greenock Railway! Thus the sports of railway speed, Nought on earth can now exceed, Except my song, which all must read, About the Greenock Railway.
6. The moral of my song I add, To make you married ladies glad, Who lately were a little sad— Before the Greenock Railway. So now dispel each moppish frown, And don your most attractive gown, Your loving husbands can get down, In one short fleeting hour from town; While vessels waiting at the quay, Conduct them swiftly home to tea, Or to a drop of barley bree, So certain is the Railway. Then let us steal a march on time, And echo forth this ranting rhyme, Which street Rubinis think sublime, About the Greenock Railway.
—Park's Songs for All Seasons. Glasgow. 1843.
[A later copy of this poem is viewable in The Poetical Works of Andrew Park by Andrew Park, London: David Bogue, 1854, page 313, where it is called THE GREENOCK RAILWAY.]