Volume 153 — 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.