THE STATION-MASTER’S DREAM

 

In memory of the late THOMAS SMITH – STATION-MASTER, WRETHAM/HOCKHAM STATION

 

Empty station, empty track,

No one goes, no one comes back,

The Station clock won’t let time fly,

The Station Master dreams of days gone by.

The Station house was a sight to please,

Nestled there among the trees,

The signal box has been pulled down,

There’s no trains up and no more trains to town.

The waiting room is empty and the Rails have gone

The Platforms swept, the gates are closed,

But memories linger on.

Of trains that rumbled fast and slow,

Of people travelling to and fro’

Flags and whistles, lamps so bright,

Echos of the shunting in the night.

The level crossing gates are gone,

A road lays where the line ran on,

No more trains will ever pass,

No more tickets, first or second class.

No more steamy engine smells,

No more level crossing bells,

The waiting room is locked and so,

The Station Master dreams of long ago

Little children off to school grow up too soon,

Young men leave and go to war,

Newly weds go on honeymoon.

Summer, Winter, Autumn, Spring,

Trains go out and trains come in

Slamming doors and whistle blasts,

The Station Master dreams about the past.

Sometimes he hears a distant call,

Is someone in the Booking Hall?

Dare he look? or will he find

He’s only hearing memories in his mind.

Is that a train, the fast or slow?

Are people travelling to and fro’?

Of flags and whistles, lamps so bright,

The Station Master’s dreaming through the night

His Garden was the best for miles around,

But they’ve closed the line, now he’s retired

And bought this precious ground.

So now you’ll see him every day,

His wife beside him knows his way

Hears him whistle, hears him sigh

The Station Master dreams of days gone by.

By Irene Meadows