The Men of the Rail
Locomotive – Photo SLWA
Through time and space in a furious race
Spurning the midnight gales.
The steel steel reels on flying wheels
Over the shining rails;
With a good cigar in the sleepy cars,
Cosy and safe and warm,
Ye pay small heed to the headlong speed
And the men who breast the storm.
When the signal flares and, the red light glares
Out of the darkness dread,
Scant time is there for oath or prayer
By the men who ride ahead,
With rapid thought as the quick deed wrought
That checks the rushing train,
And it’s hit or miss as the air-tubes hiss
And the brake rods grind and strain.
Tis theirs to dare both foul and fair
Just as the Lord may send
With a steadfast heart from the whirling start
To the good or evil end;
It’s all in the work, though death may lurk
In the murky gloom before,
They laugh and tear in the muddy cheer
That streams from the furnace door.
Now this is the dream of the Sons of Steam
Men of the cab and rail,
“A level track and no looking back
From the lure of the homeward trail;
We’ll strike right through on a schedule true,
And never a moment late,
For there’s no delay on the right of way
When we pay our debts to fate.”
Author Unknown –
From: Yellowdine ‘Treasures in the Bush’ by Delys Howlett
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Moya Sharp
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