You are here: Archive Home > Bab Ballads > The Railway Guard's Song

The Railway Guard's Song

Air, "Crescendo Galop"

Tom Hood's Comic Annual for 1868


Train is starting, people parting, hurry, scurry all around,
People rushing, pushing, crushing-luggage somehow can't be found,
Here's the wicket, show your ticket — in your pocket, I'll be bound;
  For they'd be knowing if you're going all along the line.
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    Counties right and left are flying,
Whistle screaming, shrieking, crying,
Engine puffing, blowing, sighing,
      Sighing all along the line!

Strange sensation passing station, through a tunnel then you go,
Dashing, crashing, signal flashing, darkness all above, below,
Flags unfurling, quickly whirling, rushing into daylight glow;
  With posts and wires, lamps and fires, all along the line.
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    Here we stop for ticket-showing,
Engine off her steam is blowing,
Get in, please, sir, if you're going,
      Going all along the line.

Gem'man beckons, ah, I reckons, he's been smoking up from town.
Want a weed, sir? Oh, indeed, sir, carriage all the journey down.
Fond of fees, sir? If you please, sir, thankee! (pocket half-a-crown)
  He'll smoke away, sir, I dare say, sir, all along the line!
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    Gent and engine both are smoking,
Driver with a poker poking,
Very grimy stoker stoking,
      Stoking all along the line.

Gent and lady (gent is shady — lady pretty, young, and fair),
P'raps eloping — lady hoping they may be a happy pair;
Secret marriage, want a carriage to themselves, well, get in there;
  A single tizzy! Gem'man, is he? Isn't one of mine!
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    With a dash and a rush and a crash and a crush,
      And a puff, puff, puff, puff, puff;
    Running off from her relations,
Who will make investigations
At a dozen score of stations,
      Stations all along the line!

Archive Home  |  W. S. Gilbert  |   Bab Ballads

Page Created 30 July, 2011