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SONGS.
THE GREENOCK RAILWAY.
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 pour'd 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.
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 pour'd 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.
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 by ten;
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 by ten;
