The coal train.

The coal train passes twice a day, with a thousand tones to haul.
And a single whistle at the cross, becry’s it’s lonely call.
The coal train shuffles though the town, with little noise or fuss.
But when the steam train plied this route, it wasn’t always thus.
The steam train called it’s name out loud, as it paced the valley track.
The coal train’s coming, the coal train’s coming, the coal train’s coming back.
And as it clattered toward the town, the coal train called ahead.
The coal train’s coming, the coal train’s coming, did you all, hear what I said.
And the whistle that screamed at the crossing, was such, that none could ignore.
And the dead would cry, please, let me sleep, please let me rest, once more.
And the night shift workers, turned in their beds, recalling their latest dreams.
But then fell to sleeping soundly, between the coal train’s screams.
And schoolboys dreamed of driving trains, and would watch the engine go by.
And the driver always waved to them, with a smile, and a glint in his eye.
THEN, the coal mine closed, some years ago, and the town has not fared well.
For a coal mining town, without it’s mine, is a pathway that’s leading to hell.
And the heart of the town is broken again, each time that train passes through.
For there’s nothing so sad, in a coal mining town, as miners, without work to do.
So nobody waits for the coal train now, and nobody cares for it’s call.
The schoolboys are playing computer games, and they barely go outside at all.
But the diesel train passes here, twice a day, hauling coal from another town’s mine.
But now it’s ashamed to call out it’s name, so it quietly slips down the line.