It was a railway passenger, <br />And he lept out jauntilie. <br />'Now up and bear, thou stout porter, <br />My two chattels to me. <br /> <br />'Bring hither, bring hither my bag so red, <br />And portmanteau so brown: <br />(They lie in the van, for a trusty man <br />He labelled them London town <br /> <br />'And fetch me eke a cabman bold, <br />That I may be his fare, his fare; <br />And he shall have a good shilling, <br />If by two of the clock he do me bring <br />To the Terminus, Euston Square.' <br /> <br />'Now,--so to thee the saints alway, <br />Good gentleman, give luck, - <br />As never a cab may I find this day, <br />For the cabman wights have struck: <br />And now, I wis, at the Red Post Inn, <br />Or else at the Dog and Duck, <br />Or at Unicorn Blue, or at Green Griffin, <br />The nut-brown ale and the fine old gin <br />Right pleasantly they do suck.' <br /> <br />'Now rede me aright, thou stout porter, <br />What were it best that I should do: <br />For woe is me, an I reach not there <br />Or ever the clock strike two.' <br /> <br />'I have a son, a lytel son; <br />Fleet is his foot as the wild roebuck's: <br />Give him a shilling, and eke a brown, <br />And he shall carry thy chattels down, <br />To Euston, or half over London town, <br />On one of the station trucks.' <br /> <br />Then forth in a hurry did they twain fare, <br />The gent, and the son of the stout porter, <br />Who fled like an arrow, nor turned a hair, <br />Through all the mire and muck: <br />'A ticket, a ticket, sir clerk, I pray: <br />For by two of the clock must I needs away.' <br />'That may hardly be,' the clerk did say, <br />'For indeed--the clocks have struck.'<br /><br />Charles Stuart Calverley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/striking/