The train will clock in At three again today. You'll probably tip your hat To visitors and the holidays That bring so many people So far from home. My head hurts. No other way to put it Besides in a hat With the brim pulled down, So the sun stays out of my eyes And I can get some work done. We toss them on the ground Like they are just burdens That we must carry on and off a train Before we can go home. They grab them and smile, Never to think anything of us Beyond our striped shirts And tipped hats.