As requested...
Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the yard,
All the switchmen were switching, some working quite hard.
The grips were all hung by the shanty with care,
In the hopes that a time slip would soon show up there.
The trainmasters were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of test failures danced in their heads.
The hogger in his kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a sneakey quick nap.
When out in the yard there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from our motor to see "what's the matter?"
Away from the cab, I flew in a flash,
To line all the switches, and stop a bad crash.
The moon on the field of new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a worn out SD40, dragging eight old reindeer.
Run by an old hogger, who looked like St. Nick,
I knew in a moment, I had to act quick.
At yard speed the 40 down my lead he now came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
"To the top of the yard, we'll cross over them all,
Now drag away drag away, drag away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the top end the old 40 flew,
With a gon full of toys, and Saint Nicholas too!
And then in a twinkling, I heard an old horn,
Blowing for the brakes, soft and forlorn.
As I threw down my lantern and was turning around,
Down the old 40s steps the old hogger bound.
He was twitchy and wormy, from his head to his feet,
His yard list all folded and sorted, quite neat.
A bundle of time slips he had flung on his back,
He looked like a peddler opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
He filled all those grips, then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, to the seat box he rose,
He notched out his 40, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
With sincere apologies to the Reverend Moore...
23 17 46 11
And a Merry Christmas (or what ever you celebrate at this time of year) to all out there.
Norm
A sure sign of the season. Thanks again Ed.
Dan
Indeed, a classic.
Thanks.
Larry Resident Microferroequinologist (at least at my house) Everyone goes home; Safety begins with you My Opinion. Standard Disclaimers Apply. No Expiration Date Come ride the rails with me! There's one thing about humility - the moment you think you've got it, you've lost it...
Very enjoyable reading. Thanks for sharing Ed. Here's one I wrote a few years ago about railroading as it was when I was a boy.
'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.
THANKS, ED!
Somehow with those stories...The Christmas Season is complete!
Muchos Gracias!
Merry Christmas all.....from a bit nearer the North Pole!!
And a Happy Healthy New Year too!!
Charlie
Chilliwack, BC
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