Skimbleshanks the railway cat, the cat of the railway train

There's a whisper down the line at eleven thirty-nine

When the night mail's ready to depart

Saying, "Skimble, where is Skimble has he gone to hunt the thimble

We must find him or the train can't start!"

All the guards and all the porters and the stationmaster's daughters

Would be searching high and low

Saying "Skimble, where is Skimble for unless he's very nimble

Then the night mail just can't go"

At eleven forty-two with the signal overdue

And the passengers all frantic to a man

That's when I would appear and I'd saunter to the rear

I'd been busy in the luggage van!

Then he gave one flash of his glass-green eyes

And the signal went "All clear!"

They'd be off at last for the northern part of the northern hemisphere!



Skimbleshanks, the railway cat, the cat of the railway train

You might say that by and large it was me who was in charge

Of the sleeping car express

From the driver and the guards to the bagmen playing cards

I would supervise them all more or less

Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces

Of the travellers in the first and the third

He established control by a regular patrol

And he'd know at once if anything occurred

He would watch you without winking and he saw what you were thinking

And it's certain that he didn't approve

Of hilarity and riot so that folk were very quiet

When Skimble was about and on the move

You could play no pranks with Skimbleshanks

He's a cat that couldn't be ignored

So nothing went wrong on the northern mail

When Skimbleshanks was aboard



It was very pleasant when they'd found their little den

With their name written up o