POEM: Flying North

With cries of hurray, and a sense of elation

She speeds through our lives, with a thunder of steam

Cutting through air, with the help of slipstream

Resplendent in colour, of National railway green

Polished by her crew, to a lustrous sheen.

She’s taken on water, at Heaton depot

For the journey to Scotland, she’s got far to go

The people she passes, all take her photograph

The news of her coming on bush telegraph

They’ll never forget, this moment in life

Forgetful of bills and government strife.

Picking up speed, she streaks for the heather

Flashing through Morpeth, it’s all hell for leather

The driver has got the throttle full on

As Edinburgh’s promised, the end of the song

Acklington, Alnmouth, and Chathill too

All witness the toil of the hard-working crew.

To Berwick and Dunbar, she flies like a swan

Taking on water, from track troughs along

People are waving, from houses she passes

Sheep look on puzzled, while munching on grasses

Soon she approaches, Waverley junction

In a great cloud of steam, she ceases her function.

From Kings Cross, through York and Newcastle was the mission

Edinburgh’s reached, through powerful piston’s unison

The crew can relax, with a pint and a meal

Steeling themselves, for return journey’s zeal

Until then, they wearily climb from the train

In three days, they’ll be doing it all over again.

AG Mcrobb

Cramlington