The Wreck of the 45!

Shiny and new 
In the sun’s morning dew 
Polished gold adorned 
No, no, no,  
Be forewarned  
The wheels that hold 
Begin and groan 
The ground rumbles 
As the whistle screams 
The Forty-Five heads its way 
Onward the lay of the snake careens 
Chugging along 
Building up steam 
Don’t step in front of the Forty-Five 
Cross its path, 
And the beast turns mean 
The gauges decry a lie, 
But the ties underneath, rot 
And die, 
Undermining support 
Whilst the fire in the Forty-Five 
burns Hot white... 
Burdened and a bustle 
Those in its employ hustle 
In hope they will thrive 
In reality, none of them will survive 
The wreck of the Forty-Five!