Blood Filled Dirt

Written by: Chris Broyles

Wistles blow
Echoing though the mountain plain
Blood drips with times gone by
Scars covered by a grassy hill
With rails laid that shall not last
Smoke fills the mountain air
Blackens the sky filled with hue
Engines turn with power in stroke
Burning coal filled with dirt
Bang bang the cannon ball fly
Like the engine acting like it wont die
Puffing down the hill and lane
Bought with times now gone by
Scars that are hidden from view
Given way to the smoke, the dirt and no more hue
Cough cough lung of ash
Gone the wistle
That sighed filled with dirt