Song Lyrics Poetry posted January 17, 2015


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Life in the old days when men jumped the trains

Train Track Jack

by Linda Engel

Rode in on the rail to somewhere
Hitched a ride to promise bound
Shared tales with ones who cared
drank a toast to past lovers found

Oh! The rail is our traveling home
Drinking whiskey and rye
It's where we go to bury bones
It'll be the place where we die

Night fell on that clanking rail
One by one we drift asleep
Knowing morning comes in pale
We'd have to choose memories to keep

One by one we jumped that train
Smiles fade as we waved goodbye
Morning mist turned into rain
Our souls unveiled, not much to hide

Oh! The rail is our traveling home
Drinking whiskey and rye
It's where we go to bury bones
It'll be the place where we die


Recognized


Listening to some bluegrass and banjo music, I thought about, as a child we were allowed to go play in the fair grounds next to the rail road tracks. My Aunt Clara would scold us and warn us to stay away from the rail cars because the hobos lived there.
And of course we would get as close to them as we could hide ourselves. My cousins and I would giggle and make up stories of who they were and to what tragic event led them to live in the abandoned box cars.
Just a grown up thought to a childhood memory.

Thanks to Wild184 for the use of this wonderful photo.
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


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© Copyright 2017. Linda Engel All rights reserved.
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