J.A. Morris
It’s rain an’ rain an’ rain again, till all the world’s afloat,
An’ workin’ on this mud-line now, it surely gets my goat.
A kingsnipe on the mid-line in the mud an’ slush an’ rain,
The Old Man throwin’ butterflies from every bloomin’ train.
There’s sloppy joints in Johnson’s cut; the track is out of line.
“Go quick and cut the driftwood loose at trestle Twenty-nine.
“The fence was down at Wilson’s place, when I passed there today,
“And all his cattle, sheep and hogs were on the right-of-way.”
The longest day must have an end, an’ men must have their rest,
An’ comes the time, at evenin’s close, the time that I love best.
When car and tools are put away, an’ I get home once more,
An’ see my Maggie’s smilin’ face beside the kitchen door,
Then I wash up an’ sit me down to supper, pipin’ hot,
An’ cares take wing an’ fly away, an’ troubles are forgot.
Then I smoke up while Maggie clears away the supper things,
An’ I start up the phonygraft, an’ Harry Lauder sings
“A Wee Hoose ‘Mang the Heather” an’ “the Bonny Banks o’ Doon,”
An’ “Roamin’ in the Gloamin'”—now that’s a dandy tune.
My darlin’s eyes grow misty—she’s a Scottish lass, you know—
An’ me, my throat gets husky, an’ I have to cough, jus’ so.
A trackman’s life is hard, at best, his pay is small beside,
But consciousness of work well done should be a trackman’s pride.
So give me my old pipe and I’ll not envy queens or kings,
With Maggie girl beside me here, while Harry Lauder sings.