Early mawnin quiet train
No one says a wuhd.
Half the riders half asleep,
Other half on the ipawd.
Conductor mans his cabin
Shoots words out to the air.
Tells folks with business in Flushing Queens,
To “get out over heah!”
Ticket-puncher gets his due
moseys on along.
Rustlers take old newspapers
Read about what’s going on.
Car creeps into another hub,
tenderfeet give chase.
Methinks about my own pursuits
Whar I’ve arrived too late.
Yep, I think ’bout that branded calf
The one I meant to date.
On the lonesome mawnin quiet train.
I think of the gal I’d approperate.

© 2024 Matthew P. Hanley