Williamstown Chronicle Saturday 29 November 1879
(After Tennyson.)
It jolts us on every train.
I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that so rack my brain.
Oh ! woe to the terrible Jack,
Who invented this dreadful thing,
And learned the use of the tar-pot
On pipes that had lost their ring.
His name should be handed down,
As a hero of our great nation,
Forbe's done the working man quite brown
And built a Private Railway Station.
Brake, Brake, Brake,
What if it aint all my own,
The noise don't hart the working man,
But it makes the aristocrats groan.
TYMKINS.
No comments:
Post a Comment