* * * * *
AN OLD SONG RESUNG.
"O Ever since the world began
There never was and never can
Be such a very useful man
As the railway porter."
So ran the rhyme that in my youth
I thought perhaps outstripped the truth,
But now, when longer in the tooth,
Freely I endorse it.
In calling out a station's name
He is undoubtedly to blame
For failing, as a rule, to aim
At clear enunciation;
But, since the War, he hasn't struck
Or downed his tools--I mean his truck--
And plays the game with patient pluck
Like a sturdy Briton.
He's often old and far from strong,
But still he doesn't "make a song"
About his lot, but jogs along
Steadily and bravely.
He doesn't greet with surly frowns
Or naughty adjectives and nouns
A tip of just a brace of "browns"
Where he once got sixpence.
But better far than any meed
Of praise embodied in this screed
Is ERIC GEDDES' boast that he'd
Been a railway porter.
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