By D. Fisher -- 1900
The Witches Still Live and Run The Broomstick Train
That without his leave they were romping 'round,
He called, -- they could hear him twenty miles,
From Chelsea beach to the Misery Isles;
The deafest old granny knew his tone
Without the trick of the telephone.
"'Come here, you witches! come here!' says he,--
'At your games of old, without asking me!
I'll give you a little job to do,
That will keep you stirring, you Godless crew!'
They came, of course, at their master's call,
The witches, the broomsticks, the cats, and all;
He led the hags to a railway train
The horses were trying to drag in vain.
'Now then,' says he, 'you've had your fun,
And here are the cars you've got to run.
The driver may just unhitch his team,
We don't want horses, we don't want steam;
You may keep your old black cats to hug,
But the loaded train you've got to lug.'
"Since then on many a car you'll see
A broomstick plain as plain can be;
On every stick there's a witch astride,--
The string you see to her leg is tied.
She will do a mischief if she can,
But the string is held by a careful man,
And whenever the evil-minded witch
Would cut some caper, he gives a twitch
As for the hag, you can't see her,
But hark! you can hear her black cat's purr,
And now and then, as a car goes by,
You may catch a gleam from her wicked eye.
"Often you've looked on a rushing train,
But just what moved it was not so plain.
It couldn't be those wires above,
For they could neither pull nor shove;
Where was the motor that made it go
You couldn't guess, but now you know.
"Remembering my rhymes when you ride again
On the rattling rail by the broomstick train!"