We were crowded in the cabin, <br />Not a soul had room to sleep; <br />It was midnight on the waters, <br />And the banks were very steep. <br /> <br />'Tis a fearful thing when sleeping <br />To be startled by the shock, <br />And to hear the rattling trumpet <br />Thunder, 'Coming to a lock!' <br /> <br />So we shuddered there in silence, <br />For the stoutest berth was shook, <br />While the wooden gates were opened <br />And the mate talked with the cook. <br /> <br />And as thus we lay in darkness, <br />Each one wishing we were there, <br />'We are through!' the captain shouted, <br />And he sat upon a chair. <br /> <br />And his little daughter whispered, <br />Thinking that he ought to know, <br />'Isn't travelling by canal-boats <br />Just as safe as it is slow?' <br /> <br />Then he kissed the little maiden, <br />And with better cheer we spoke, <br />And we trotted into Pittsburg, <br />When the morn looked through the smoke.<br /><br />Phoebe Cary<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballad-of-the-canal/
