The Spoonbill Generator

Raptures of Our Lady Bromide

Let her curl up and sleep on the railway [Roland]

Track. The locomotive's not coming now. [fester]

Biding its timetable [Roland]

It's building up steam, [fester]

Going over its points once again ... [Roland]

Or perhaps it is lost in some chilly siding [P]

Black. The shunting-master greases his whip [Roland]

Waits at the turntable [P]

Circles his scheme [Roland]

Fixing his terse upper lip [Stacy Alexander]

On the sleepers, her dreams are of coupling [P]

Now. The driver can see the pressure mounting [fester]

Shaking the boiler [loaf]

Forcing steam from valves [fester]

Under poplin and calico [loaf]

Or perhaps she dreams of some small distant branch line [fester]

Cow, serving the remotest farmer's needs [loaf]

Shaking its udders [fester]

Forcing steam from calves [loaf]

Where the primrose and couch grass grow [fester]

But, keeping an eye on the signals, [P]

Lo! An emergency swiftly unfolds [loaf]

Calling for alert [Stacy Alexander]

Going off the rails [fester]

With ideas above its station [Grayman]

Contributors: Roland, fester, P, Stacy Alexander, loaf, Grayman.
Poem finished: 31st October 2002.