Napoleon – the warrior,
In days of long ago,
Gave out some words of wisdom,
To his soldiers, grouped below,
An army! thundered ‘Boney’
On its stomach, goes to fight,
And after an inspection, of the RRR
For an army in its thousands,
Daily marches to the sign,
Where they fill your little tummies,
When you travel down the line,
See them sit and toy with cutlets,
Cups of tea and coffee too,
Pies and curry, rice and custard,
Soups, Porterhouse and ‘Stoo’.
Mid the rattle of the crockery,
Scullery girls in snowy dresses,
Wash the dishes neat and clean,
Cups, saucers, spoons and teapots,
At attention! Stand and shine;
For they’re waiting on the diners,
That will come at dinner time.
Watch them piling on the sauces,
With their sausages and mash,
Some eat slowly, others rush it,
Then they swiftly make a dash,
For a bell is loudly ringing,
As they hurry through the door,
With ports and rugs and baskets,
For the seven twenty-four.
But the man who really matters,
Is the cook, who stands and waits,
For the browning of the sausage,
With an eye upon the gates,
Then down the chute you hear it,
Eggs and bacon! Soup for two!
Then our cook twirls up his whiskers
And the grills prepare to do.
Up the chute the grills go sailing,
To the girls that wait with trays,
Watch them quick and safely stack ’em.
As they go their many ways,
There’s a glass of milk for baby,
And a grill for Honey Sue,
Then old grandpa in the corner,
Roars out “How about my stoo!”
So I could go on forever,
Just describing how they eat,
How they wait and grow impatient,
Roll their eyes and stamp their feet,
But in spite of modern methods,
We can’t live on sand and tar,
Let this game of ‘eats’ continue,
At the good old RRR.
The Railroad 1939