A children’s book my parents read to me in the 1950s, about a family and a model train that somehow gets out of hand. At one point the mother comes into the room and demands:
“To whom am I to be grateful, to whom,
For a locomotive in my living room?”
I have no idea whether or not the rest of the book rhymed, or what its title was, but that couplet has been in my head for approximately 60 years.