At this joyous time of the year I'd like to extend a warm holiday greeting to all my Classic Trains friends. I've learned much from each of you and truly cherish our visits together on the forums. I had you all in mind as I penned the following and hope you enjoy the results of my literary efforts.
"Twas the Night Before Christmas a Long Time Ago
by Mark Foster
The markers were lit and hung on back of the way car,
but because of the storm couldn't be seen from afar.
The lamps in the crummy cast a flickering glow
inside the car and out onto the snow.
The rear brakie had stowed his flagging kit
and climbed to the cupola with a cigarette lit.
On the conductor's desk inside the way car
sat a miniature tree topped by a silver star.
A wrinkled old hogger clenched a cigar between his teeth
and its smoke hung 'round his striped cap much like a wreath.
After a few scoops of coal and blowing water gauge cocks
the fireman settled down comfortably on his left side seatbox.
The head shack snoozed in his doghouse atop the tender,
fitfully dreaming of Rule G 'cause he'd come off a bender.
The carknockers checked the journals for waste and for oil
and when finished were weary from all of their toil.
A switchman lined all the leads to the main just right
then headed to his warm shanty for this was the last train tonight.
The conductor's lantern swung up and swung down
letting the engineer know it was time to leave town.
With two shorts on the whistle he notched the throttle just back
and for good measure put sand on the snow covered track.
Past dimly lit switchstands the train slowly rolled
onto the main through the snow and the cold.
The lightning slinger's key flashed an OS over the wire
then he turned and warmed his hands by the station stoves fire.
His thoughts turned to the kids and jolly Saint Nick,
'twould soon be the end of his second trick.
Through the snow down the track the headlight shone bright,
a most welcome beacon on such a cold stormy night.
The stack now barked briskly, the clean fire burned bright,
'twould please any brass hat who might chance see the sight.
For each grade crossing the whistle would moan
and all aboard thought of their family and home.
The semaphores all dropped from green to red
as by each one the fast manifest sped.
The head shack lined the switch for a mid-run meet
then headed back to his warm tender top retreat.
After the passage of the Night Owl passenger train
it was out of the hole and back onto the main.
Side rods again were a blur, lineside poles fairly flashed by,
and the snow continued to fall from the sky.
By dawn the run would be over and all safely back home.
Merry Christmas dear friends, 'tis the end of this poem.
I think there is one typo. Try and find and correct it. Otherwise, just great. Hope lots of people see it and the send it to all your friends, not just railfans.
Thanks Dave glad you liked it. I found and corrected the typo. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you.
Mark
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