A poem complaining about the lack of delivery wagons at Bonnington, Leith
A CORRESPONDENT commenting on the scarcity of wagons at Bonnington, Leith, has perpetrated the following. His crimes be on his own head:
From morn till eve we hear the cry
" No wagons."
The carters come with searching eye,
But merely look and heave a sigh
Here traders roar throughout the place,
Their scowls we easily can trace,
This is what's written on their face
Still the men are brought to load
And when you say there's none to-day,
They stare at you as though to say,
" Make wagons."
The railway staff they write a wire
The manager by express desire
And in return they tear their hair,
Crying and cursing in despair,
Writing and wiring a' the mair
And what shall silence now the cry,
" No wagons "
When rivals* meet with eager eye,
The traders' traffic seize, or try ?
Then, only then, we'll hear the cry,
" Here's wagons I "
*. R. & N. B.