MEMORIES AND REGRETS. 139 



afar the approach of the laurelled mails, should be lost 

 amid the hissing or shrieks of the locomotive.' 



The following lines were written by one who saw, 

 with deep regret, the glories of the road departing : — 



Lamentation of the Knights of the Whip. 



Ah ! the good days of coaching are past like a dream, 



And we, the ' Crack Dragsmen,' are victims to steam ; 



There are many good fellows have cause to bewail 



The old line of Road, and the new line of Rail. 



And will England allow the best whips of her land 



To come down from the box without lending a hand ? 



And won't our good Queen do a something for us ? 



Or must we be doomed to a Company's 'bus ? 



O Steam ! thou art nought but the waggoners' curse ! 



Now hear all the changes, can any be worse ? 



For the tapering ' crop ' you now witness a poker, 



For the spruce turned-out coachman a smutty-faced stoker. 



For the drag and its team, so renowned for its mettle, 



Some menagerie vans urged along by a kettle ; 



For the boast of our country, the ' quicksilver trot,' 



A huge engine and tender, the asthmatical pot ! 



For the neat road-side inn and a dish of cold meat 



You've a gorgeous saloon, but there's no time to eat ; 



For a friendly pull-up and a breathing-time chat 



A glance at the down with the loss of your hat ; 



For the ' three feet of tin ' there's a whistle so shrill, 



And a killing outright for an innocent spill ; 



Then cry shame on the Rail, and as long as we live 



The inventors of Steam we can scarcely forgive. 



Oh ! our coaches, our whips, when again shall we see 'em ? 



Alas ! as antiques in the British Museum. 



O Vulcans ! O Drivers ! with Tartarean faces, 



Can you ever expect to win ' our ' good graces ? 



