The Iron Horse

It would have been no surprise to see George Stephenson's "Rocket" pull into the bustling Kitzzburg Railway Station this morning as the travel-bent crowd surged through the packed concourse in search of wider horizons. Distinctive amongst the pleasure seekers were Cravenised green jerseyed footballers. Audible above the purposeful platform din was the sportsmens' battle cry.

The Game

We've got to think about the game, the game, the game,
We've got to think about the game, the game, the game,
We put fun and games behind,
Out of sight and out of mind,
While we think about the game.
There was this doll took me to her bedsitter,
Said I was a handsome critter,
(Yeah? Yeah?)
She sighed, we kissed—and then went on till
We were nearly horizontal,
(Yeah? Yeah?)
Then she put on this lacy negligee,
All set for games that only two can play,
(Yeah Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?)
But then I thought about the game, the game, the game,
Oh, yes, I thought about the game, the game, the game,
'Though she called me honey lamb,
I went out and caught a tram,
'Cause I thought about the game.

When I was twenty-young and pure,
Met this dame in Rotorua,
(Yeah? Yeah?)
Went into her caravan there—
Sat upon her pink divan there,
(Yeah? Yeah?)
She said the thing she liked the most was a man,
Especially sitting on her pink divan . . .
(Yeah? Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?)
But then I thought about the game, the game, the game,
Oh yes, I thought about the game, the game, the game,
"Though she hinted at I'amour,
I went straight on out the door,
'Cause I thought about the game.

When temptation comes your way, remember—
Be strong.
When a mopsey says you may, remember—
It's wrong.
When you're taking home a doll,
Who starts giving you the eye,
You squeeze her hand a little
And she (Ah!) begins to sigh,
When she says, "Why not come in and have a drink?"
Tho' she's nice, just think twice, and you'll stay right in the pink.
When you find a doll especially-fetching, take care;
When she says she'd like to see your etchings—don't you dare.
In despite of all their feminine guile
Let out motto ever be—self denial—self denial!

There was this dame I met once at a party,
The kind bohemian and arty;
(Yeah? Yeah?)
She was the plaything of her senses,
Said, "The hell with consequences!"
(Yeah? Yeah?)
At twelve o'clock we went up to her flat;
We talked of this and that—but mainly that...
(Yeah? Yeah? Yeah? Yeah?)
So there I was, with this lovely doll sitting on my lap. The lights were low
And as she started to take off her earrings she was telling me that the only thing that really mattered in life was pleasure—
She was telling me!
(So what happened?)
Why then I thought about the game, the game, the game,
Oh, yes, I thought about the game, the game, the game,
'Though a dame might often claim
That she's game to take the blame
Let's remember to abstain all the same,
And think about the game,
Think about the game, Think about the think about the think about the think about the Think about the game!

Despondent Brown family boarded Stick-ville-bound train, chatted pleasantly with alert young guard, found time soon passed and happily sampled hors d'oeuvres at sumptuous railway refreshment room. Job-conscious engine driver. George, mobilised train at whistle blast, left standing the two watchdogs, P.T.Y. and K., detectives extraordinary.