THE PATENT-BELL PUNCH.
By George Robertson.
My song is of a nice young man,
He's known both near and far,
He carries by his side a patent-bell punch;
He's conductor of a cable car.
Such nice, curly hair and brown mustache,
And such a captivating eye;
As he gives the ladies a seat in the car
He blushes and Buys, "Oh my I"
As he goes through the car to collect his fare,
For stamps he carries a punch;
He was never known to knock down a cent,
While he carried the patent-bell punch.
As he waltzes through the car he says:
"Your fare now, if you please;"
He plays you a tune on the patent bell punch,
And he makes your change with ease.
He always keeps his weather eye open,
For the kids, he thinks, will ride;
And he always got the same old cry:
"There is plenty of room inside." - Chorus.
"Come right up, there is plenty of room
Inside," he says with a yell;
He packs you up like an old sardine,
And be gives another jerk on the bell.
And the fact, upon my word,
You hardly would believe,
That he carries a "punch" for the cable company,
And another for himself in his sleeve. - Chorus.