Clickety clack, the metal wheels turning
Huffing and puffing the coal that it’s burning
Blast of the whistle, low tones and long
The banjo and fiddle of steam engine song
Hugging the steel rails, a lifeline, a guide
The safety and destiny of all inside
Chugging up steep hills a tie at a time
Rippling on downhills, a cartwheeling dime
The acrid smoke cinder, the heavy wet steam
The hard sting of metal, a sniffable gleam
The swaying and rocking so strong yet so frail
The deep seated grinding of steel wheels on rail
Slouched in a hard leather seat by the glass
I watch pastures and mountains like murals go past
Windows of places and moments gone by
Things that could be, fading out on a sigh
Merely mirages on the way to the end
Close enough to touch – disappear round the bend
My own face set steadily toward the destination
A new landscape waiting when we reach the station
