Recited by Mora Moore.
He stood in the depot yard,
And he gazed with a vacant stare;
He was travelling home to OmahaHe'd rich relations there,
The time was seven o'clock at night,
'Twas dark And getting late,
These words proceeded from his lips,
"Long live the man that Invented fast freight."
He had not shaved for many a day,
His eyes were sunken in,
His clothes wouldn't do to go to a ball
To dauce the racquet in.
And as he chewed on a piece of straw,
Thus he did cogitate,
"I'll be in Omaha in the morn.
If I catch the fast freight."
The tramp observed a box car,
Marked grain and merchandise;
It said. " Then empty, please return
To Chicago City in "Illinois."
Then he took off his Land League hat,
While a smile on his face did break,
"I would not ride in a Pullman car,
I prefer the fast freight."
He sneaked into a box car,
He was afraid to cough.
For fear he would hear the conductor yell
In his tenor voice, Get off.
He got between two barrels of glue-
Just here a fact I'll state,
He offered up a silent prayer
To the man who invented fast freight.
The conductor was a terror,
The tramps they did abhor him,
He stood six feet eleven in his socks-
That is whene'er he wore them.
He fell on the tramp and knocked him about,
Until his bones did ache,
He was covered with gore, in German he swore,
"I'll pull the neck off the man that invented fast freight."