The Finest Train
David Brown
In her day she pulled the finest train
On the Atchison Topeka and the Santa Fe
Now she’s sitting, silently decaying
In her day she pulled the finest train
Now she’s a broken ol’ loco,
no-go hobo condo, weeping heap of iron
Patiently waiting at a vacant station
adjacent to the end of the line
Once she was shot by O Winston Link
At the back of the drive-in showing Gone with the wind
Forty-three flashlights all going off in sync
Once she was shot by O Winston Link
Bugs and moss mark the passing years
Love and loss mark the passengers
The only smoke is from the hobo fire
Drinking in a circle, sitting on a pile of tyres
Coyotes in the bogies hidden in the thorn and brier
The only smoke is from the hobo fire |