Page:Railroad Poetry (1864).djvu/7

 The next being Sabbath day, My custom to rest and pray; But revolution has changed the time, And must condemn myself in rhyme:


 * A Sabbath well spent,
 * Brings a week of content,

And strength for the toils of to-morrow;
 * But a Sabbath profaned,
 * Whatso’er may be gained,

Is the sure forerunner of sorrow.”

Allow me this excuse to make, When Sabbath journey I take, ’Tis on land and not the rail, My sin on then I don’t wish to tail; Went six miles by trotters fast, To Mr. McCall’s to breakfast, He being one of the railmen, I pitched into him again, That there should be at least water to drink On his train if not to wash out the stink; The stuff they carried for water, Was flatly refused by his daughter, As to myself my taste not fine, I could not drink the turpentine, Getting so thirsty asked conductor If no chance to get good water; He handed a boy the front car key, Told him there to water me, And after some travelling about, I drank good water from a spout,