It's nine at night and now the train is off,
Like a sweating Cyclops, with a steadfast eye,
A blazing headlight in black forehead set.
Slowly the engine gathers steam and speed,
Cheers from a hundred young and lusty throats
Burst forth and wild enthusiasm reigns --

               Homeward Bound!

                        Vera Frances

Woodstock Songs - contents
Previous - The Lyre Tree (poem)

Webber Philip McEldowney
Last update: Saturday, 26 February 2011.
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