Hurry, Hurry, bustle, bustle,
Thro' the busy throng we hustle,
Many, many, anxious faces,
Eager to secure their places,
Driving here and driving there,
Moustache_men¹ and Ladies fair....
"That's my box", "This my basket",
"I'll take my parasol and casket"
Then seated in the cushioned class,
With blinds, and windows of plate glass,
The Times and Punch² their hours be-guile,
As swift they fly from mile to mile,
To seek new pleasures in new places;
Pleasure all their mind embraces,
To seek new pleasures in new places;
Pleasure all their mind embraces,
Soon at the refreshment station,
All rush to seize the little ration,
Ham, tongue or beef, or pie of pork,
They eat without a silver fork,
Quick! they swallow ale or stout,
No time have they to look about
Ten minutes and the dreadful bell [Note 338.1]
Sound forth the trains departing knell;
Scramble, scramble, change and pay,
The train allows of no delay.
Heigh, presto, vanished is the train,
And solitude resumes its reign,
Bustle, or solitude extreme,
Alternate marks the railway scene
Bustle, or solitude extreme,
Alternate marks the railway scene