The Train Is Coming
The train is coming, coming,
It whistles, don’t you hear?
I saw the smoking engine,
And soon they will be here.
The train is coming, coming,
It is already here,
I think that handsome Willie,
I’m sure, he’ll soon appear.
I’ve waited long to see him,
And thought the train was slow;
But now I see it stopping,
And Willie’s come, I know.
I got, on Sunday morning,
The sweetest billet-doux,
It had a white envelope,
And his initials, too.
I read it, then I started,
To hear the sermon through,
But I could not hear the sermon,
For all that I could do.
For it said that he was coming,
Without mistake to-day,
That he was growing weary
Of things and folks away.
But list! the bell is ringing,
And here is Willie’s card;
I’ll meet him in the parlor,
For I am quite prepar’d,
To answer any questions
That Willie now may ask,
And then to serve and love him,
Will be my daily task.