I once saw a lady at Egham station,
she looked at me without turning back ,
I didn't ask for her hand ,
nor a crumb from her basket of bread .
For her eyes were like dew drops falling ,
yet in her eyes she saw not love ,
for the smoke of the train was bellowing
Whistling romantic thoughts of love .
To far away places it drew her ,
to far away places unseen ,
to castles and their crusades they called her ,
with their lances and seronades ,
and their far away dreams.
Should chivalry and valleys and valour ,
chastise her in her lovers gas filled Ford
Model T
Far away from the final rapture,
should love then wait for me ,,?
Forever ?
Or never,
or to go here after with a lance and a shield ,
and with the sweet fragrance of flowers
from the lovely Daisy Dee.
And the men with their dubious pleasures
with their new fangled top of the range Ford model Ts .
Alas my fantasies soon faded with the smoke and the calling of the guard,
for many soon had gathered to help this delightful woman embark .
And so I was left standing
alone on the platform,
With billowing smoke reaching up to the skies ,
bereft of any last good byes .
For the steaming demon had captured her
In the blink of the devil's eye .
Her hair blew with abandon ,
her eyes had turned a smoky red .
Her bonnet was tossed to the hills ,
along with the flowers a stranger had sent .