Each night as I sit to rest
I can hear this lonesome whistle.
It's a train I've heard for years,
Far off in the distance.

It seems to have a sadness,
As it rumbles down the track,
As though a friend is leaving town,
Never to come back.

I've heard it since I was a child,
It always brings back thoughts,
Of times I've stood and waited at the tracks,
So I could go across.

Sometimes they blocked the railroad,
For twenty minutes or so,
I'd have to wait in rain,
And sometimes in the snow.

I worked in town about two blocks from home,
There was no other way around,
For as the place I worked,
Was on this side of town.

I guess it taught me a little patience,
Life's not make believe.
Bad often comes with good,
Pretty often it seems.

They use to shovel coal to fuel the train.
Cinders were everywhere,
On your clothes you hung to dry,
And even in your hair.

But where would we be without them?
They bring in so much good.
They bring in grain in boxcars,
That helps to make our food.

To farmers, trains are so important,
They have to count on them,
To bring in fertilizer and fencing,
They mean so much to him.

So I'll keep on hearing that lonesome whistle,
Way off into the night,
And the clattering of the train,
As it travels down the track.

Faye Reyenga ©
1 / 24 / 2007
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