Poet of the Hills
The quaint little depot stands there still
A memory that ever remains
When smoke rising up from over the hill
Announced the approaching trains.
The station master with impressive cap
Picked up the worn mail sack
And stood alert, a likeable chap,
As the train moved in on the track.
Friends stepped up to say, ‘Good by’
Others to say, ‘Hello’
These are memories that you and I
Retain from the long ago.
Nostolgic though our hearts may be
And near are hidden tears
‘Tis better far for you and me
To advance with the passing years.
But when we gain that better land
That is free from every sin,
Wouldn’t it be a sight still grand
To see some trains steam in?