There's the bell ! listen well !
"All aboard," is the cry ;
We are going, going-gone :
We'll be back, by-and-bye.
No we are jumping with a thumping
And a bumping o'er the rails ;
But our horse has taken something,"
And his strength never fails.
Hear the bell ; listen well ;
"Clear the track" is the cry ;
We are flying, flying-flown,
Like a "streak o" lightning by.
What a racket ! how we clack it,
As we track it, o'er the rails ;
But our pony needn't slack it,
For his strength never fails,
Blow it loud to the crowd
Who our coming wait to spy ;
Who are coming, coming-come.
Rub the cinders from your eye,
As were sliding, and are gliding,
And are riding into town.
Never horseless need of "hiding,"
Or less need of rubbing down.
Notes
From the NSW Newspaper The Sydney Mail Sat 22 Feb 1862 p. 3.
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