Second Class Wait Here

At suburban railway stations you may see them as you pass, There are signboards on the window saying, Wait here second class; And to me the whir and thunder and the clunk of running gear, Seem to be forever saying, saying Second class wait here Wait here second class Second Class wait here Yes the second class were waiting in the days of serf and prince, And the second class are waiting, they've been waiting ever since, There are signboards in the background, and the line is bare and drear, Yet they wait beneath a signboard, sneering Second class wait here. Wait here second class Second Class wait here I have waited often in the winter, in the mornings dark and damp, When the asphalt platform glistened underneath that lonely lamp, And I waited there and I suffered, and I waited there for many a year, Slaved beneath the signboards, sneering Second class wait here. 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 signboards, saying Second class wait here. Wait here second class Second Class wait here There's a train with Death for a 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 an Eden in the rear; And there won't be any signboards saying - Second class wait here. Wait here second class Second Class wait here