Here's wishing all my forum friends joyous holidays and a very happy new year. I hope you enjoy this poem which I wrote a few years ago as a holiday greeting.
"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 snow 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 'tween 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 on his left side seatbox.
The head shack snoozed in his dog house atop the tender,
fitfully dreaming of Rule G 'cause he'd come off a bender.
The car knockers checked the journals for waste and for oil
and when finished were weary from all of their toil.
A switchman lined all the lead switches 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 sanded the snow covered track.
Past dimly lit switch stands 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 fingers by the station stove's 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 returned to his warm tender top retreat.
After the passage of the Night Owl Pullman train
it was out of the hole and back onto the main.
Side rods again wear a blur. Line side poles flashed by,
and the snow continued to fall from the sky.
The run would soon be over and every one safely back home.
Merry Christmas dear friends 'tis the end of this poem.
And let me add one more that fits this time of the year, the story of Old Shep and his vigil at Fort Benton, Montana depot for his master's return.
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Happy holidays to all, and when you can, please pay-it-forward.
and may you all be blessed.
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