PhilH
Western Thunderer
I think this was originally published in MRJ many years ago, so may be familiar to some , but I think its worth reproduction here with due acknowledgement to that publication and whoever wrote it.
It was night time on Stoke station, I was waiting for a train,
The sky was filled with darkness, the air was soft with rain,
In the smoky black cathedral with the buzzing of the wires,
from a DMU that was bound for Crewe came the sound of a heavenly choir.
Just a group of wayward Welshmen heading home to Colwyn Bay,
full of beer and Hymns and Arias, I really couldn't say,
But the sound of distant voices harmonizing back to Wales,
and the signal lights reflection on the wet and greasy rails.
And I dreamed of Knotty engines on excursions long ago,
pulling trains of jolly potters off to sunny Llandudno,
And bathed in warm nostalgia on a trip down memory lane,
I fell asleep on a wooden seat and missed my bloody train !
It was night time on Stoke station, I was waiting for a train,
The sky was filled with darkness, the air was soft with rain,
In the smoky black cathedral with the buzzing of the wires,
from a DMU that was bound for Crewe came the sound of a heavenly choir.
Just a group of wayward Welshmen heading home to Colwyn Bay,
full of beer and Hymns and Arias, I really couldn't say,
But the sound of distant voices harmonizing back to Wales,
and the signal lights reflection on the wet and greasy rails.
And I dreamed of Knotty engines on excursions long ago,
pulling trains of jolly potters off to sunny Llandudno,
And bathed in warm nostalgia on a trip down memory lane,
I fell asleep on a wooden seat and missed my bloody train !
