The Carriage

It was a beautiful carriage,
With silver studs and six horses,
A tall foot man in a gilded suit,
And the fat coach driver with the crackling whip.

It sped through the dark alleys and streets,
And through shadowy streets and roads,
To pick up fares it stopped
At bars, gambling houses,
Shady corners and at slums,

Even at the back gates,
Of palaces and mansions,
And sped away.

And if some one asked  "Where to ?"
The coach driver would cry -
"A pleasure ride ! Hop in ! ".

And they came a lot of them
A many and varied crowd,
Drunken men ,sober men,
Reckless men ,scheming men-

Men mad for lust,some  mad for money,
And men mad for power and glory.

And thus with such fares,
The carriage steadily rolled,
It went and went , a long time went,
Till it rolled slowly to a stop,
Before the dark and dreaded gates of Hell

The carriage doors are now opened
And a voice in the wilderness cries out loud,
Out now,  Out !
From mirth to misery now you march !