We now do sing a new theme,
It is prodigious power of steam;
And our little fast steam horse,
How he works with mighty force.
Instead of hay and oats, we thrust
In his mouth chips and saw dust;
Which heats the blood in his veins,
Then how he saws and bores and plains.
He’s never troubled with the botts,
But all the time he gaily trotts,
And every day he is full able
To make many a chair and table.
Work for him is only sport,
He feels so good he oft does snort,
As he trotts along his course,
Our little frolicksome steam horse.