My Trolley hikes to Harlem p.d.q., And picks up pikers all along the beat. At six o'clock the aisles are full of feet, The straps with fingers, and the entire zoo Boils on the platform with a mad huroo Reckless as Bronx mosquitoes after meat. The widow stands, the fat man gets the seat And Satan smiles like Foxy M. Depew.