THE TRAIN CREW
The seven steel-ribbed coaches
Draw smoothly to the shed.
And you and other passengers
Now hurry home to bed;
You’ve done your easy hundred miles
In ninety minutes clear—
Then thank the man who brought you,
The old gray engineer,
Your hope, your love, your children,
The prayers that you have prayed,
Lie in his faithful fingers
On trestle, curve and grade;
By crossing, draw and culvert
His leaping engine roars,
And clear as altar lamps he sees
The green lit semaphores.
Unthanked and unremembered,
He holds your life secure;
His service does not falter ,
His hand and eye are sure;
A thousand tons go flashing
Along that ribbon slim ;
The roar of his tall driving wheels
Is very like a hymn.
His miracle of power
Is terrible and swift;
Farewells and lovers’ meetings
Are equally in his gift;
In starlight or in snowstorm,
A priest of creed austere,
He brings you home in safety—.
The old gray engineer.—Ex.
Merry Christmas
The Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers & Trainmen – Illinois State Legislative Board
Paul Piekarski
Chairman