Song of the Wire (1875)
With fingers weary and stiff,
With eyelids heavy as lead,
A telegraph clerk sat working away
Long past the hour for bed.
Click- click - click!
In weariness, hunger, and ire,
And still with a voice of utterance thick
He sang this "Song of the Wire."
"Click-click-click!
For the Argus that's crowing aloof!
And click-click-click!
While the printer corrects his proof!
It's oh! to be in a mine
And work with a shovel and pick,
Where a fellow has leisure to sleep and dine,
Instead of this constant click!
"Click-click-click!
Till the head begins to swim;
Click-click-click!
Till the eyes grow heavy and dim!
Noun, and figure, and verb!
Verb, and figure, and noun!
Till over the message I fall asleep,
And send it on in a swoon.
"Click-click-click!
From eve till nearly day!
Click-click-click!
As a clock will click for aye!
Verb, and figure, and noun!
Noun, and figure, and verb!
Till the hand is stiff and the heartstrings years
For a whiff of the fragrant herb.
Click-click-click!
Through the dull and dreary night!
And click-click-click!
Till my head grows giddy and light;
While underneath in the street
A pair of larrikins lurk,
As if to show me their little games
And twit me at my work.
"Oh ! but to pause for tea
With my wife and children sweet,
With my own roof over my head,
And slippers upon my feet!
For only one short hour
To feel as I used to feel
Before these tedious telegrams came
To spoil my evening meal!
"Oh ! but for one short hour!
A respite however brief!
No blessed message to send along!
Or the wire to come to grief!
A little tobacco would ease me much,
But deep in my pocket now
My pipe I stuff, for a single puff
Would lead to an awful row."
With fingers weary and stiff,
With eyelids heavy as lead,
A telegraph clerk sat working away
Long past the hour for bed.
Click-click-click!
In weariness, hunger, and ire,
And still with a voice of utterance thick
Would it might stop this new Argus trick.
He sang this "Song of the Wire."
Notes
From the South Australian Register 3 August 1875.
MY PORTFOLIO.A telegraph operator, for whose communication I had not space last week, sends me the following lines, from which it will be seen that the feat of telegraphing 40,000 words in one day, which elicited such a shout of triumph from the Argus, is looked upon in some quarters from quite a different point of view