"The toll-house stands at the town end
Deserted and forlorn,
Its tariff down, its steelyard gone,
Its post and bars uptorn
I ought to ban that robber's hold,
As I have often banned,
When late for train on full career,
Its barrier made me stand.
Or when at night returning
From the convivial board,
I found the bar was padlocked,
And the tollman lay and snored.
A toll was always some place
Where coach that went to town,
Could take your note up as it passed,
Or hand your parcel down.
A toll was always some place,
Where men might rendezvous,
To gossip when their work was done,
And interchange their view.
And so when grumbling by and by,
Perhaps we'll sigh and say -
How useful and how picturesque,
Were toll-bars in their day.
We'll have our artists painting them,
Our bards shall sing their praise,
Our antiquarians will dig,
A buried post to raise...."