We jerk and roll to Castletown;
Ruts, mounds, holes and stones
Give a shaking to our bones.
Clip clop, heaving flanks,
We are bumping on the planks;
Hedges, houses, gates and trees
We crawl past in agonies.
Clip clop, creaking shafts;
Little shelter from the draughts.
Nothing soft on which to sit,
Mouths and eyes are full of grit.
Clip clop, months and years
Seem to pass, with all their fears.
Time becomes eternity
Stretching out from tree to tree.
Clip clop, roll and grate,
Progress slow but sure as fate.
Streets and railings, castle, mast –
We have reached the town at last !
Mona’s Herald 8.2.63