# Railroad Poetry

Railroad Poetry.
By rail I resolved to go, In the year of our Lord sixty-four, And of the twelfth day of April, From the village of Summerville, To Sumter via the town Kingville, Which really is convalescing still; Indeed if you desire a treat, You have only to stop there to eat. To Sumter we got in chary time, Before the clock had stricken nine; The day was pleasant, the voyage too, An old chum I met with, ladies too, But the next did prove to be That which the rails did confrere, From all the South to Columbia; The Camden train run through that day, So I bargained with good Blodget To hold up my old signal torch, By which I could save a day, And have less hotel bill to pay. My good Genii ever since the war, Awakes me promptly to the law, I took the train while yet ’twas night,
And slept again before daylight; But when we got to Wateree, Where two rails so rarely agree, Timber rotten, we slipp’d a pin, And the tender wheels dropp’d in; The engine man and passengers, With wood and rail rigg’d some shears, And in a half hour or so, Got her up and let her go; The stars this day for railmen Were not so lucky as my pen, And when she made the second start, More started pins slipp’d apart, Before two wheels, now four went off— These railmen get trouble enough; But this time we put on the steam, And got her on just like a dream; When to Kingville we had got, And look’d around that lovely spot, The grandee rails had rigg’d a car, And left us alone this time of war, So after them in quicken’d speed, We roll’d along to help their need; But, as their stars would have it, We got to town the same minute; Cars and engines block’d the way, At the new shops we had to stay Until the tracks could be clear’d; I could’nt wait, for to town I steer’d— Had had no breakfast ten o’clock— Walk’d to the house own’d by a frock,
But ere I left, greeted the rails, To ask condition of their sails To C. O. S.; the first seen in the way Presented a petit boquet, His sails were white, his sails were torn, The three day’s storm had made him brown— Promised after he’d repair’ed his hull, Would call and see if meeting null; I then hied to the house first said, To breakfast, dine, or to be fed; Indeed, had the pleasure to feed Kind Blodget, of both he had need; He did hawk this high up street, Four quarters of Camden beef, Helped him sell at $21/2 per pound, Purchaser taking it all around; The male landlord’s would stuff your ears, There had been nothing to eat for three years, And openly charge $30 per day, Half feed, and tend to get you away. In the country, but not the city, For strangers, some have little pity; Big notes are shucks, little ones too, A five dollar note breakfast for two; True, my landlady for your board, Takes fives at their face she does’nt hoard; For me and herself what’s better still, For my extra meal a five dollar bill, For ev’ry sea of trouble there’s a green spot, A hoven or island, it matters not, Untenanted by pirates or other vermin,
Of course I will except the women; Indeed without them dry place ’twould be, Surrounded by water in midst of the sea: Twenty-four hours is a long stay, Among tories or shylocks when you can’t get away, So I took the freight train for Kingville, So recently cured of the eating ill, For six sixty-six a dinner I got, To travelling soldiers such rare lot; Hasting dinner have hasten’d my verse, Left out adventures, flying the course: Then pick’d a crow with Bank of Charleston, We ate the crow and business done. Leaving the Madame’s, going down the street, A grandee railman chanc’d to meet, He put in my hand a little paper— Telegraph—which will cut a caper; Cousin Sam had got so militant, To citizens passports he will not grant; Good for me, had just gotten passport, ’Twas well I had concluded to go it. At the depot met a man in a stew, When the train would go could get no clue, A sub-rail had pok’d him with jaw, He wanted me to practice Lynch’s law, Answer’d him I had the point, To lower would get out of joint. In confusion another I met, Who also seemed disposed to fret, I showed him the track, and where
The thing would back the box car; Suspicious I might lead him astray, As he had to be at Florence this very day, So he rose to an engine in transitu, And found what I had told him true; He then took a seat on a pile of rocks, And gave cousin Sam sone knocks; I told him of the late rail law, Which was caused by the war, And no passports for citizens, But soldiers and Government men; That the Habeas Corpus he so decried, Was the cit that now could ride, His eyes sneered up, is that the man I’ve heard of, not seen, spoke agin, Who for so little could give such pain; He had no time to get a passport, So had a paper, to me would show it, And his occupation too; How the soldiers he treated to Dinners ever since the war began, Daily given free to soldiers ten; I told him his paper would do, In two hours we were in Kingville too, The railmen also did come along, It takes them too to make my song, But never knew what the meeting meant, Nor whether for good or evil intent, They did business with closed doors, Custom of Congress ev’ry one knows; Hope they did not get a flea in their ear,
For strangers’ company they did care, It could not be they had any fear Of Habeas Corpus or King Lear, For the comfort of Uncle Sam’s men, They have studied since the war began. Every real aristocracy, Touch its power, then you’ll see Them meet and conclave hold, And show cousin Sam the power of gold; For my part, I will leave them here, Not that they had taken some scare, That Habeas Corpus, an unruly man, Might pick up such as he can Devour or hold in durance vile, They ever so innocent all the while; I love the soldier, more the soldieress, Had left one in Sumter in distress, She had been a visit of a quarter year, How to get home again had great fear, So I took the Camden train Instead of going to Aiken, And on next train tried our fate, To go to Florenze early or late, The Genii gave me luck again, There was no up Charleston train, So the conductor granted us On his ladies’ car to pass, And then an vacant seat, To get ease or warm our feet; Of course we made very good time, And bed at Florence after nine,
The next being Sabbath day, My custom to rest and pray; But revolution has changed the time, And must condemn myself in rhyme:
“A Sabbath well spent, Brings a week of content, And strength for the toils of to-morrow; But a Sabbath profaned, Whatso’er may be gained, Is the sure forerunner of sorrow.”
Allow me this excuse to make, When Sabbath journey I take, ’Tis on land and not the rail, My sin on then I don’t wish to tail; Went six miles by trotters fast, To Mr. McCall’s to breakfast, He being one of the railmen, I pitched into him again, That there should be at least water to drink On his train if not to wash out the stink; The stuff they carried for water, Was flatly refused by his daughter, As to myself my taste not fine, I could not drink the turpentine, Getting so thirsty asked conductor If no chance to get good water; He handed a boy the front car key, Told him there to water me, And after some travelling about, I drank good water from a spout,
Then asked for wood to make a fire, ’Twas cold and I had walked the mire, Which was in every soldiers car, Enough thin shoes to deter; The poor soldiers were lying about, Like they would be in a route, Indeed two days after a battle, By the smell you would think of cattle; Indeed, one passenger going through Got so sick that up he threw His dinner, which is no small loss, If railmen knew what a dinner cost; I then got wood and made it warm, And from the soldiers I did learn, This the first time they had been Comfortable on cars since war began; It does seem strange, very to me, That railmen will never agree, If not theirs, cousin Sam’s sake, A little soap and water take, A little wood, a little oil, To make their cars free from soil, But it does appear the country’s mad, You may go naked so I am clad, Soldier tired of cars to your tent, For to worry us this, war was sent To pay for our vexation of spirit, None but us can get any merit, Am glad to say before I left, Mr. McCalls heart was sorely cleft, And he goes to direct the man,
To fix things better when he can, Although I had scolded quite severe, My treatment was full of care, And had only to complain I feared I should not fare so well again, Proves for one to truly thrive, Must himself hold or drive, At six, P. M., started again, Made better time than rail train, True I had a two-forty nag, And for six miles she didn’t flag, But got me the house of Col. C., Sometime before his time for tea, With his good cheer in the hour of ten, I waited for the Cheraw train; And then behind his bonny mares, Made the depot in time for cars, In due time to Cheraw I got, And made my bed a widow’s cot; The cot was clear, so was the bed, In the morning I had a clear head, And breakfast too, white sugar and tea, Indeed it was prepared for me. After the breakfast I walked the street, Which, I am glad to say, were neat, Indeed it may be the cause That so many have gone to the wars; It was whispered that the small pox Had crept in slyly as any fox, And scared the country folks away, Wood and food worth any pay;
I had seen rosin was the fuel, Rosin men will catch the devil; I then went to the post-office, Thought one dollar to suffice In buying ten ten-cent stumps, And give my letters required lamps To hie them to their home; But when I asked they did not come, My one dollar Confederate note Did not have on its new coat, I first thought a stranger might Be looked upon as not all right; I then went to Gouch’s store, And sent his boy to try once more, Then his sprightly youth, Could not make the note tell the truth, When he had brought it back, I posted it on the show case smack And wrote beneath this warning take, The like of me he does forsake, Cousin Sam at last has gotten One agent that is not rotten, And though he made the stamps and bill, One will not pass when looking ill, Yet folks did say when they saw this, He wont take this, he is a fish; I then sent a five dollar note, Which got the stamps in its new coat, I then could but soliloquize, Cousin Sam at last has got a prize, No wonder of the many he has fished,
He at last got one before he dished; This in a museum should be put, His place then marked with soot, And grease it will mark the spot When all his confreres are forgot. I then did visit old Yankee hill, Where fever and ague did them kill; Indeed the cattle grazing round Seemed to know ’twas sacred ground, And now and then would toss Their heads, as if they smelt a ghost, And were not sure their hides were safe, Where Yankees lived or had a waif; I then walked over the river, To look what I could discover, A lot of rosin there two years or more To take its chance, the fate of war, Had by degrees grown beautifully less, One big lot bad, or did evanesce, Some waggoners one cold night, Had put some fire to make a light On this pile of rosin, and forgot To snuff his candle, so burnt the lot, But left the insurance to pay His night candle as bright as day. There was another lot the other side, Which was spirited away by the tide, Some said the soldiers’ wives did use it, If so who in the cold could refuse it; Now it is easy to digest, A village without a crest,
More easy a town that was there, But the old Yankee bill Has one house on it still, And that seems to have gone through the war, For some two years ago With a lot of poor guano, I traded for this turpentine a lot, And stored it in this house As snug as any mouse, A devil of turpentine I’ve got; But the Yankee ghost Shall pay me the cost For so much spirits lost, Or may their souls in purgatory rot; I then went to Gouch’s store To look around no more, But pay up my score of letters, He bid me to come, Make myself at home, And think no more of the bill or its fetters; Perhaps some cosy friend, Will allow this “amend,” When we meet and I tell him the why My last letter contain So much wind and rain, ’Twas raining and there was no sky; At nine I went to bed, Slept as sound as if were dead, Got up at five in the morning, Used crash and ablution, For ten years my notion,
Then the servants for breakfast warning; Two years since let’s see, Took an order for tea, ’Twas gunpowder for ladies of Charleston; Now strange to say, On this very day, Gave me one back for souchong; I breakfasted in good time, Took on something to dine, And hired umbrella for the depot; Had a full hour’s time, To write on my rhyme, And with Gen’l C. talk so and so; I wrote on to Florence Without any expense, Staid there half an hour or two; At twelve got again On the Charleston train, And wrote this to Gourdin’s depot; Indeed I don’t choose To worry my muse, Or readers with more particulars, But will stop right here, Without any care, While under the influence of stars.
Commenced on the cars at 7 A. M., closed at 1 P.M., having travelled ninety miles.
This work was published before January 1, 1929 and is anonymous or pseudonymous due to unknown authorship. It is in the public domain in the United States as well as countries and areas where the copyright terms of anonymous or pseudonymous works are 95 years or less since publication.
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