Travel

 The railroad track is miles away, 
 And the day is loud with voices speaking, 
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day 
 But I hear its whistle shrieking.


All night there isn't a train goes by, 
 Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming, 
But I see its cinders red on the sky, 
 And hear its engine steaming.


My heart is warm with friends I make, 
 And better friends I'll not be knowing; 
Yet there isn't a train I'd rather take, 
 No matter where it's going.

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