Steam Travel

Steam Travel Steam Trains, are, archaic, Romantic and prosaic, It takes an army of volunteers to keep these old trains going. What will happen, in the future There is just, no way of knowing, To go by train, on a summer's day out, Hoping that it would not rain, Was what a day out, was all about. Boiled egg sandwiches, A flask full of tea, Balanced precariously, Upon your knee. When I was young, the journey made, Was, from Temple Meads, to, the arcade, Along the front, At Weston-super-Mare, Ice cream and rock, With friends to share. We all have memories, just like these, It was easy then, For us to please, The donkey rides, The puppet show, Ice cream and, lemonade to go, A sunny day out, drinking in the shade. Time to go home And the platform is chocker, To get on the train you, You need the build of a docker, With the smoke from the Steam, And the noise from the wheels, To remind you just, How that moment feels. Gradually you start to move, Two Short blasts, And the train starts to roll, The sounds and smells, Are written in your soul, with the Rat tat tat, And the clickety click, Of the train on the Track, You are on your way back. Home is not too far away, And you can put your feet up, At the end of the day.