The Devil's LocoA Poem by David Lewis PagetI
live by an ancient railway track Near
the village of Nether Stonely, Though
the trains were left in the distant past, And
the ribbon of track is lonely, The
rails are rusted, covered in weeds And
lead to an old stone tunnel, That
squads of Victorian engineers Once
sealed to the height of a funnel. As
lads, we’d clamber up to the top And
peer through the gap left up there, Into
the pitch of the blackness, where You
could still get a whiff of sulphur. We’d
shout ‘Hello!’ there, into the dark, And
listen to hear the echo Bounce
off the curve of the soot-black walls That
seemed to be whispering ‘Loco!’ The
legend went that a local lad In
’93, in the winter, Had
followed his dog as it chased a hare, They’d
all been seen to go in there, A
tank, a 2.4.2 went in To
the dark of the old stone tunnel, With
sparks and smoke obscuring the view As
sulphur poured from its funnel. It
didn’t come out from the other side, The
boy never reappeared, The
company suddenly closed off the line With
that bevy of engineers, The
loco was written right off from the books, They
said it had gone to the knackers, And
secretive meetings were held at the docks With
directors, and all of their backers! I
slipped right over that wall at ten, But
nobody would believe me, And
felt my way through the darkness then As
my eyes, they thought to deceive me, A
loco, cold, and covered in rust Stood
silent there in the tunnel, And
under the front, a skeleton crushed, As
dead as the old train’s funnel! On
winter days when a fog or haze Comes
down, I can hear it barking, A
dog in chase of a hare, and then The
sound of a young boy laughing, And
then the rumble and chuff of a train Drifts faintly over the meadow, As
I cover my ears to muffle the scream And
the sound of the Devil’s Loco! David
Lewis Paget © 2012 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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