I drag the coaches and do the slog daily,
But the bogies attract the people and corner all the glory.
We, the bogies, as slaves, follow the engine blind,
It barks and sings aloud, though we take the people around.
I am strong, yet to carry little fuel, I huff and puff,
Poor coaches carry people, luggage and all, but without a whiff.
We hardly work in compare, but are a pampered lot,
Pity, the engine works day and night, still earns only a nought