When the dogs stop snarling and the rails peter out,
When you’re no longer sure just where you’re about,
You’ll see a last platform with an air quite bereft.
Just sit there and wait for a train going left.
And while you sit there, if you feel a bit flat,
Think of hot cocoa and nice things like that.
But just when you’re settled and start looking round,
The platform erupts with a great mocking sound.
It’s a manic crescendo of hysterical laughter
And the source of that sound sits high on a rafter.