| May/June 1956

8713 Frederick Street Spokane 6, Washington

(Written for his Father)

Old Charlie was an engineer
Back in the days of steam;
To live again that yesteryear
Had always been his dream.

The sound of quiet, rushing steam,
Of cinder-filled exhaust,
The clank of bull gears it would seem
Were doomed forever lost.

The puff of straw-fire up the stack,
The whistle, full of cheer,
The creaking platform at the back,
He'd given his soul to hear.

One day an old-time Case he bought;
He scraped and brushed it bright__
'I'll make it just like new,' he thought
He worked all day and night.