The motor car is a first rate machine,
if the battery's right and the spark plug's clean,
But the one stand-by that would never fail.
Was the old hand car, the 'Irish Mail".

The clouds might roll and the thunder crash,
The storm winds blow and the lightning flash,
And the rains might come, and the snow and hail
But nothing could stop the 'Irish Mail'.

How my memory clings to the old hand car,
With four strong handsome lads on the handle bar,
The boss on the brake side, watching the rail,
to see if all was clear of the 'Irish Mail'.

From his swaying seat would the hogger look out,
for the king snipe's highball, his cheerful shout,
And he'd sigh with relief, "they never fail."
The Jerrys are out with the "Irish Mail'.

So here's a toast to the days that are done,
And a tear for the brawny lads now gone,
For the brave, true hearts that would never fail,
And the staunch old car, the 'Irish Mail'.

I must thank Byron for his wonderful Photography of the Hand Car