I cannot explain
The thrill I feel,
When I gaze upon
Those wheels of steel,
With pistons pounding,
Whistle sounding,
The puffing from
The chimney stack,
As a steam train roars
Along the track!
For I am at heart
A railwayman,
The railway is my soul,
My breath
It is of steam,
And my bones
Are made of coal.
Atlantic, Pacific,
Tender and tank,
I watched them all
From a tree on the bank,
I waved at them
And they waved at me,
Trains from the city
And trains to the sea,
No more in love
Could a little boy be!
For I am at heart
A railwayman,
The railway is my soul,
My breath
It is of steam,
And my bones
Are made of coal.
Like so many boys
I did desire,
To drive a train
Or feed the fire,
But sadly when
I reached the age,
There appeared
A Whitehall “sage”,
Who to save a little tax,
Allowed to fall
The Beeching Axe!
For I am at heart
A railwayman,
The railway is my soul,
My breath
It is of steam,
And my bones
Are made of coal.
I got to drive
But not for long,
It was criminal,
So very wrong,
Not only did
Go miles of track,
But also the smoking
Chimney stack,
I drive soulless diesels now,
To which poor steam
Has had to bow.
For I am at heart
A railwayman,
The railway is my soul,
My breath
It is of steam,
And my bones
Are made of coal.
The rails now
I‘m told they pay,
But I’d give my life
For just one day,
In which to see
My love, dear steam,
At a time when she
Reigned all supreme!
For I am at heart
A railwayman,
The railway is my soul,
My breath
It is of steam,
And my bones
Are made of coal.
There will come a time,
I know not when,
When my dear steam
Will rise again,
When an engine will
Be built once more,
For the joy of it
Will she be for,
Through mountains,
Past river and fen,
Dear steam I know
Will rise again!
For I am at heart
A railwayman,
The railway is my soul,
My breath
It is of steam,
And my bones
Are made of coal.
© David Gibson, 2011
