THE GOOD OLD DAYS ON THE WEST COAST ROUTE
(Composed prior to 1971; from manuscript held by B. Burke)With “eighteen on” we’re leaving Crewe; the engine does her nut
The old girl has hysterics in a cloud of smoke-and-soot
With the Fireman brooding on the hours of navvying to come
and looking daggers at the driver – sitting on his bum.
Through wind and rain and Lancashire as splendidly we fly
we dream of cabs of Diesels and of being warm and dry
Till I give a hand at firing, for the Fireman’s pretty bad
and find I’m using muscles that I’d quite forgot I had.
But she’s “roaring charging climbing Shap in majesty sublime” …
The fireman works his knackers off, I KNOW we’re losing time …
as we bucket into Carlisle as the Shades-of-evening fall
“You’re LATE!” they scream, “So where’ve you BIN?” – The Fireman answers “Balls!”
And THAT’S the “Great Romance of Steam”? Oh. what a load of cods.
You’re easily Romantic if you’ve never WORKED the sods!
Oh I’m an old “Steam” man myself, but steam is DEAD – Amen!
We’re all now ten times better off than we were ever then.
For I’ve got a Deltic Diesel, and it’s warm and dry and clean
though it don’t appeal to Poets. Aye, I know just what they mean.
It takes a kind of skill you know, but somehow it’s unreal
… alone I sit and press a tit and it buggers off. BIG DEAL!
[AUTHOR’S NOTE: Again, vulgarities are [drama and?] really necessary. The speaker is unimpressed by either “Poets” or – as it turns out – diesels. Is “Deltic diesel” accurate in the last verse? I don’t know OF COURSE! As far as I’m concerned the West Coast main line is still worked by “Semis” – and L.M.S. ones at that.]
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