At Suburban Railway Stations
Waiting in the days of surf and prints
And the second class are waiting
They've been waiting ever since
There are gardens in the background
And the line is bare and drear
Yet they wait beneath the signboard
Sneering second class wait here
I have waited in the winter
In the mornings dark and damp
When the asphalt platform
Glistened underneath that lonely lamp
And the wind among the poplars
And the wires that thread the air
Seem to be forever snarling
Snarling second class wait here
Out beyond a further suburb
Near a chimney stack alone
Lay the works of grinder brothers
With a platform of their own
And I waited there and suffered
Waited there for many a day
Slaved beneath a phantom signboard
Telling all my hopes to stay
Oh, a man must feel revengeful
For a boyhood such as mine
God, I hate the very houses
Near the workshop by the line
And the smell of railway stations
And the roar of running gear
And the scornful sneering signboard
Saying second class wait here
There's a train with dead men
Death for driver
That is ever going past
There will be no class compartments
When it's all aboard at last
For the long white jasper platform
With Anne Eden in the rear
And there won't be any signboard
Saying second class wait here
Oh, no, there won't be any signboard
Saying second class wait here
Oh, there will be no business