Classic Poem

I want to be a brakeman,
Dog gone!
Legs hangin' over the edge of a flat car,
Train goin' 'bout twenty-five miles 'n hour,
Kickin' the dog-fennel 'long the track —
That's what a brakeman does.

I want to be a brakeman,
I jing!
Makin' the boys git off the platform,
Cussin' the drayman if the skids is lost.
Hollers, ' Back 'er a len'th,' and engineer has to —
That's a brakeman for ye!

No conductor for me, just a brakeman,
By hen!
Can make a couplin' on the dead run,
Has spring-bottom pants 'n' braid on his clothes,
Carries a lantern at night 'n' cap over his ears —
That's a brakeman, I'll tell ye!

I want to be a brakeman,
Geeminently!
Stand in with agents and op'rators,
Gits to Peru every night 'n' sees a show,
Knows the numbers of the trains, chaws tobacker —
He's a regular one, you bet!

'N' I want to be head brakeman,
Gol-lee!
Twistin' 'er hard, smoke rollin' 'round y'u,
Country people stoppin' work to look,
Girls wavin' at y'u all the way to Peru;
I'll be one, too, some day.