So we boarded the Northern train
in howling winds and stinging rain.
The guard, with duties now performed
gives one last cry of all aboard.
Green flag raised, his whistle blows,
checks the carriage doors all closed.
Whilst stowing cases overhead
released our snorting fiery steed
With metal and mesh racks overflowing
four bare round lamps, all gently glowing.
As we settle back on the velour seating
Our ankles warmed by piped steam heating.
So leaving the station far behind
we catch the rhythm of the lines.
Windows sealed against the chill
the rhythmic, rocking, motion will
enfold us, in it’s gentle arms
as we succumb to it’s lazy charms
After eight long hours the race is run
to our right the rising sun
our destination close ahead
reluctantly our journey’s end.
So sadly we depart the Northern train
Counting the days till we ride it again
When the pen takes control. 
Wonderful rhythm, chugging along, almost a song
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Move to the siding W H Auden I’m coming through
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Indeed. Thank you for my lunchtime chuckle.
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Nice! By “Northern Train” do you mean the Union Pacific?
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Sadly, not so romantic, just the boring old, “Flying Scotsman.”
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Haha, well, I didn’t know about the Flying Scotsman! As an American, the Union Pacific is old-hat stuff!
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