roads of the Metropolis at night-time as running-grounds for
athletes.]

I come from haunts of smoke and grime,
I start in some blind alley,
And race each night against Old Time
Enthusiastically!

I dodge past frightened City gents,
And sometimes send them flying,
Which makes them cherish sentiments
Not wholly edifying.

I wind about, and in and out,
Along the crowded pavement,
While here and there the mockers flout
My costume and behavement.

I slip, I slide, I flash, I flee
Amid the teeming traffic,
And drivers often use to me
Idioms extremely graphic.

I murmur when a Lawyer's view
Absurdly tries to hinder
My turning public roads into
A private path of cinder.

Yet still to "spurt," agile, alert,
Shall be my one endeavour;