The lady stood at the station bar, <br />(Three currants in a bun) <br />And oh she was proud, as ladies are. <br />(And the bun was baked a week ago.) <br /> <br />For a weekly wage she was standing there, <br />(Three currants in a bun) <br />With a prominent bust and light gold hair. <br />(And the bun was baked a week ago.) <br /> <br />The express came in at half-past two, <br />(Three currants in a bun) <br />And there lighted a man in the navy blue. <br />(And the bun was baked a week ago.) <br /> <br />A stout sea-captain he was, I ween. <br />(Three currants in a bun) <br />Much travel had made him very keen. <br />(And the bun was baked a week ago.) <br /> <br />A sober man and steady was he. <br />(Three currants in a bun) <br />He called not for brandy, but called for tea. <br />(And the bun was baked a week ago.) <br /> <br />'Now something to eat, for the train is late.' <br />(Three currants in a bun) <br />She brought him a bun on a greasy plate. <br />(And the bun was baked a week ago.) <br /> <br />He left the bun, and he left the tea, <br />(Three currants in a bun) <br />She charged him a shilling and let him be, <br />And the train went on at a quarter to three. <br />(And the bun is old and weary.)<br /><br />Robert Fuller Murray<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-ballad-of-refreshment/
