The Wrong Signal

Me farm was really sufferin’ from the rigors of a drought, and the banks had made a promise that they’re ‘bout to throw me out, so me family talked together while we’re havin’ tea one night, and they all voted I should get a job to at least put up a fight. And as it happened I was lucky when me troubles were the most, a job was going on the railways upon a lonely signal post. I sort of was apprenticed to the bloke who’s moving on, so I’ll be shifting points and signals when he’s finally gone. I’d been there a coupla’ weeks upon this job with little gloss, and then we had a spot inspection by a city railway boss who said that he must question me, just to see if I am fit, to run this signal post alone and if he’s comfortable with it. “What would you do” he said to me “If you had got a sign, two trains were coming at each other, upon a common line?” “Oh that’s an easy one” I chortled nervously just before I said “I’d stop the pair of ‘em yer see by putting all the lights on red.” “Very good” he said to me, but I got no satisfaction. He then asked “But what about, if the lights are out of action?” “Well simply then” I said to him, “With no time for repairs, I’d walk out upon the track and light up a couple of flares.” “Excellent” he grinned at me, “But what if the flares are damp?” I’m about to say to him “I’d stand on the track and swing a lamp.” But I’d had enough of all his glib and forever tryin’ to trick, “I’d get on the phone and ring the wife, telling her to get here quick.” He looked at me and sort of frowned. I had him now I knew, when he said to me “What in the world, could yer missus do?” I said “She could do nothing, but it’s a chance I can’t ignore. Yer see she’s never seen a big train smash before.”