Won't you take the ischlabahn? through mountain fields it lay,
Over svelte, jabbering brooks, the piff-paff plumes shall play.
Jumping, trotting, picking flowers is how we'll spend our day.
When we meet our destination, enjoyment won't be of use,
'Til we ride back together, smoking cigarettes in the caboose
And we'll hold Time up at gunpoint, until he makes a truce!