Come along Master Gray, let's be off for the day,
The steam it is up, and is puffing away;
Our cares we can lighten at Windsor or Brighton,
Ihe distance is great, and there's little to pay.
So rapid the pace, no horse in a race
Could equal the speed of our train;
How frightfully fast the other trains past.
I wish we were safe out again.
Thus on railways we fly (or at least very nigh),
Few birds on the wing can go faster;
With a staunch Engineer there is nothing to fear
Except now and then a disaster.
From March's Penny Library 1860