Our fair city once had a subway
And this car is all that's left
The outside is disastrous
And the inside looks bereft.
We took a ride on the trolley,
Which long ago was hopping,
Back when women needed to know
The hour for good shopping.
They ferried us in little cars
Out on the trolley tracks.
It was so hot in the open
We nearly had heart attacks.
The station was quaint and old;
Not much had changed within,
But the oil cans sat behind glass,
And the stationmaster was not in.
I wanted to push all the buttons,
And to tell the truth, I did,
And I also snapped a picture
of this adorable kid.
She was in the red caboose,
Which looked brand new to me, or
At least cleaner than this cooler,
(Secured by ADT).
The refrigeration car was pretty cool;
Please excuse the pun.
The sign says: "You will notice you are standing on a wood slat floor that keeps you up above the car's actual floor. This was done for air circulation. However, it was also necessary to clean the cars out of any perishable material that may have fallen below the slat floor. Therefore, my job is to hold up the slat floor which is made of the hinged panels which left up from the center toward the outer walls of the car. I slip between two of the slats and hold the panels up so the car can be cleaned out!"
If you think I'm really sorry,
I'll pull the other one.
Here's a chart of train parts
I'd happily hang on my wall,
And here's a shot of a car
Tinted with a gloomy green pall.
We got a bit overexcited
About switching the trolley pole.
The driver couldn't help but notice
And thought we were rather droll.
But the best part of the museum
For a person whose humor is dark
Were these safety signs on display
Which frankly I thought were a lark.
When next you go by the railway
Remember these signs and don't scoff,
Because if you so much as look at a train
Your leg will come right off.
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