Railway poetry

[backontrack]

Hello everyone,

I thought I might sit down at a computer and write some bad poetry. If this is anything less than bad, (say, mediocre), then that is an unwarranted bonus.

Caledonian Sleepers
by 'backontrack'

Your train may hurry north to Glasgow
Over Beattock’s steady climb,
Perhaps you’re on a Pendolino,
Hoping that you're still on time?
Or a TransPennine Desiro,
Going home to Lothian, West?
But really, maybe you desire - oh,
The old locomotives, yes!
Bittern, Mallard, Flying Scotsman
As if each is from a dream;
From the window (if you’ve got one),
Dream about the days of steam.
For memories can't be abolished
Of stations, shuttered, demolished.

This was where the line to Longtown
Left the mainline; did you know
That it went on to Hawick, Langholm,
And Auld Reekie? Off we go,
Squint and you can see the milk-churns
At Rockcliffe, Floriston too;
Gretna was a place of romance,
I am told; look at the view
As we pass through Kirkpatrick station.
Kirtlebridge was once a junction
For Annan, Bowness and Brayton.
I must pause, I think, to mention
The crash that passed at Quintinshill;
The UK’s worst disaster, still.

There are names like Ecclefechan,
Lockerbie and Nethercleugh.
And Corncockle Quarry, where
A little branch line once ran to.
Dinwoodie, Wamphray, and Beattock,
Auchencastle (private stop),
Then our train climbs Beattock Summit,
If you look back from the top,
You might see the stalwart Skiddaw;
Meanwhile, Moffat’s on that side;
Hannay walked from there to Beattock -
Caught a train there - took a ride
In The Thirty-Nine Steps - then
Out-thought and caught the Black Stone’s men.

Elvanfoot and Crawford pass,
Blurred by our train’s tinted glass.
Then we whizz through Abington,
Slaloming through Lamington,
Symington station was next,
Where compartmented coaches flexed
Round the Peebles branch’s curves;
Now our own train carriage swerves
Through Thankerton to the junction;
Did Beeching have no compunction?
We wonder, as we reach Carstairs,
Whether PIS displays,
Mars bars, and crisps, and stiff-backed chairs
Are worth the old steam railways?

Is there anyone else among us who fancies having a go at bashing out some preferably less-clunky stanzas about Britain's railways?

 

[Lucan]

Not bad at all. I try some poetry myself, but nothing about railways.

I would say that yours is in the style of Sir John Betjeman's. Here is the first verse of his Middlesex :-

Gaily into Ruislip Gardens
Runs the red electric train,
With a thousand Ta's and Pardon's
Daintily alights Elaine;
Hurries down the concrete station
With a frown of concentration,
Out into the outskirt's edges
Where a few surviving hedges
Keep alive our lost Elysium - rural Middlesex again.

When I worked at London Transport we regarded SIr John Betjeman as a kind of Godfather. If you know Ruislip Gardens, it is the most dreary station and next to the Central Line depot, hardly material for poetry you would think. But that was Betjeman's point, he could make poetry out of anything.

 

[backontrack]

Not bad at all. I try some poetry myself, but nothing about railways.

I would say that yours is in the style of Sir John Betjeman's. Here is the first verse of his Middlesex :-

Gaily into Ruislip Gardens
Runs the red electric train,
With a thousand Ta's and Pardon's
Daintily alights Elaine;
Hurries down the concrete station
With a frown of concentration,
Out into the outskirt's edges
Where a few surviving hedges
Keep alive our lost Elysium - rural Middlesex again.

When I worked at London Transport we regarded SIr John Betjeman as a kind of Godfather. If you know Ruislip Gardens, it is the most dreary station and next to the Central Line depot, hardly material for poetry you would think. But that was Betjeman's point, he could make poetry out of anything.

Thank you.

I haven't read much Betjeman so the choice of metre remains a complete coincidence, but you are right that he could make poetry out of anything! I must read more of his work. Dilton Marsh Halt remains one of my favourite poems.

 

[Ash Bridge]

That is actually very good, and as Lucan mentions above very much in the style of the Railways own Bard. I'm certainly no expert on poetry in any shape or form, but they said Betjeman was the people's poet and his poetry and prose certainly struck a chord with me.

 

[backontrack]

That is actually very good, and as Lucan mentions above very much in the style of the Railways own Bard. I'm certainly no expert on poetry in any shape or form, but they said Betjeman was the people's poet and his poetry and prose certainly struck a chord with me.

Thank you

Obviously there are lots of great railway poems - many by Betjeman. There's also The Night Train by W. H. Auden, Skimbleshanks: The Railway Cat by T. S. Eliot, and the wonderful Adlestrop by Edward Thomas.

 

[Ash Bridge]

Thank you

There's also The Night Train by W. H. Auden.

I forgot to add, that was the other one that sprang to mind!

 

[backontrack]

I forgot to add, that was the other one that sprang to mind!

I also thought about it too once I decided on the subject - hence the line 'Beattock's steady climb'.

 

[martinsh]

my own effort - with apologies to Robert Bloch


It’s big and strong and shining black
It’s got 18 wheels that never touch the track
There’s fire and brimstone in that steam
The whistle blows and it’s souls that scream !
The signalman says it don’t exist,
But it’s coming now with a long consist.
It thunders through with a mighty roar,
And the railroad men hide behind the door.
Cos if the conductor calls your name
You know you’ll be on that Hell-bound train.

 

[hexagon789]

Hello everyone,

I thought I might sit down at a computer and write some bad poetry. If this is anything less than bad, (say, mediocre), then that is an unwarranted bonus.

Caledonian Sleepers
by 'backontrack'

Your train may hurry north to Glasgow
Over Beattock’s steady climb,
Perhaps you’re on a Pendolino,
Hoping that you're still on time?
Or a TransPennine Desiro,
Going home to Lothian, West?
But really, maybe you desire - oh,
The old locomotives, yes!
Bittern, Mallard, Flying Scotsman
As if each is from a dream;
From the window (if you’ve got one),
Dream about the days of steam.
For memories can't be abolished
Of stations, shuttered, demolished.

This was where the line to Longtown
Left the mainline; did you know
That Port Carlisle junction is nowhere
Near that village? Off we go,
Squint and you can see the milk-churns
At Rockcliffe, Floriston too;
Gretna was a place of romance,
I am told; look at the view
As we pass through Kirkpatrick station.
Kirtlebridge was once a junction
For Annan, Bowness and Brayton.
I must pause, I think, to mention
The crash that passed at Quintinshill;
The UK’s worst disaster, still.

There are names like Ecclefechan,
Lockerbie and Nethercleugh.
And Corncockle Quarry, where
A little branch line once ran to.
Dinwoodie, Wamphray, and Beattock,
Auchencastle (private stop),
Then our train climbs Beattock Summit,
If you look back from the top,
You might see the stalwart Skiddaw;
Meanwhile, Moffat’s on that side;
Hannay walked from there to Beattock -
Caught a train there - took a ride
In The Thirty-Nine Steps - then
Out-thought and caught the Black Stone’s men.

Elvanfoot and Crawford pass,
Blurred by our train’s tinted glass.
Then we whizz through Abington,
Slaloming through Lamington,
Symington station was next,
Where compartmented coaches flexed
Round the Peebles branch’s curves;
Now our own train carriage swerves
Through Thankerton to the junction;
Did Beeching have no compunction?
We wonder, as we reach Carstairs,
Whether PIS displays,
Mars bars, and crisps, and stiff-backed chairs
Are worth the old steam railways?

Is there anyone else among us who fancies having a go at bashing out some preferably less-clunky stanzas about Britain's railways?

That's very good I think! The opening lines (and title) reminded me of "The Night Mail" somewhat; on the whole a very descriptive and evocative piece.

 

[backontrack]

That's very good I think! The opening lines (and title) reminded me of "The Night Mail" somewhat; on the whole a very descriptive and evocative piece.

Thank you - that is high praise!

 

[backontrack]

It’s big and strong and shining black
It’s got 18 wheels that never touch the track
There’s fire and brimstone in that steam
The whistle blows and it’s souls that scream !
The signalman says it don’t exist,
But it’s coming now with a long consist.
It thunders through with a mighty roar,
And the railroad men hide behind the door.
Cos if the conductor calls your name
You know you’ll be on that Hell-bound train.

Spooky...

 

[krus_aragon]

Thank you - that is high praise!

Your second line "Over Beattock’s steady climb" immediately brought 'Night Mail' to my mind as well. (A "steady climb" is exactly how Auden describes it.) That set the tone nicely for reading the rest of it.

 

[hexagon789]

my own effort - with apologies to Robert Bloch


It’s big and strong and shining black
It’s got 18 wheels that never touch the track
There’s fire and brimstone in that steam
The whistle blows and it’s souls that scream !
The signalman says it don’t exist,
But it’s coming now with a long consist.
It thunders through with a mighty roar,
And the railroad men hide behind the door.
Cos if the conductor calls your name
You know you’ll be on that Hell-bound train.

I can imagine that sung to the accompaniment of a guitar!

 

[backontrack]

Your second line "Over Beattock’s steady climb" immediately brought 'Night Mail' to my mind as well. (A "steady climb" is exactly how Auden describes it.) That set the tone nicely for reading the rest of it.

Thank you! It was an intentional, direct reference to his work.

"Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb,
The gradient's against her, but she's on time."

 

[ian1944]

The 100th anniversary of Edward Thomas's stop at Adlestrop was on 24 June 1914. To mark the centenary, a certain Geordie McGonagall penned a commemorative song of many verses, of which only the following (thankfully) has survived the nearly four years since:

I went to Adlestrop station on the twentyfourth of June,
The train stopped there unwontedly on a summer's afternoon,
Paddington to Kidderminster, by no means heavy laden,
Just this side of Oxford it'd passed the village of Bladon.

 

[Busaholic]

The 100th anniversary of Edward Thomas's stop at Adlestrop was on 24 June 1914. To mark the centenary, a certain Geordie McGonagall penned a commemorative song of many verses, of which only the following (thankfully) has survived the nearly four years since:

I went to Adlestrop station on the twentyfourth of June,
The train stopped there unwontedly on a summer's afternoon,
Paddington to Kidderminster, by no means heavy laden,
Just this side of Oxford it'd passed the village of Bladon.

Speaking of McGonagall (William of that ilk) brings one inevitably to 'The Tay Bridge Disaster'.