So all the way to “London Town

So all the way to “London Town,” Bare-headed Joseph goes, Save on his head the silken one On service to his nose. Although possess’d of “means” whereby Another might be got, Still Joe could not prevent a sigh On losing his best hat: Yet cheerful, and apparently A king in his rough mode, He pass’d the hours agreeably Upon the iron road,— Took out his sandwiches and beer, And then would have a smoke, Drew closer to a lady near, And (gravely) pass’d this joke— “This fire-horse, ma’am, breathes very hard; I don’t much like the brute; We’d best, I think, be on our guard,” (She trembles head to foot,) “For fear the beast should break his chains, And gallop off the line; The devil seems to have the reins, And driving down some mine.”