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