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When Joe was young ‘un, his cheeks flecked with down,
He drew first pay cheque to head into town.
Then up spoke his father: “Son, heed my words well -
Keep clear of the girls at the Railway Hotel.
“Those harpies will fleece you of all that you own,
They’re wicked and wanton with hearts as hard as stone.
Believe me, young fella, the road straight to hell
Begins at the door of the Railway Hotel.
“They’ll ply you with whiskey, with beer and gin,
Then when you’re half sozzled they’ll lead you to sin.
They’re skilled at seduction, at this they excel -
Those trollops who tempt at the Railway Hotel
Gee Whiz! Cried our hero, with awe on his face,
“So that’s what goes on in that old wooden place!
Our parson has warned me of women who dwell
In dens of ill-fame like the Railway Hotel.
“It seems I can still that old preacher’s words
On drinking and gambling, bad language and birds.
But where did he gain such knowledge, pray tell,
Of girls like the ones at the Railway Hotel?”
Joe caught a fast pony and girthed it up tight,
Then, bidding his father a hasty goodnight,
He sprang in the saddle galloped pell-mell
For his destination – The Railway Hotel!
W.G. Howcroft
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