Updated Feb 16, 2012 @ 01:36 PM
It was known to be a fast train,
hauled passengers for hire
the Lackawanna Limited
but the locals called it "Flyer"
Then one evening in the "Narrows"
my mother heard the screams,
departing souls were in the air
to haunt her nightly dreams.
On the thirtieth of August,
in nineteen forty three,
the darkest day for Wayland Town;
the darkest they would see.
Making up for twenty minutes
time is money on the line,
doing seventy miles an hour;
held grim fates for twenty nine.
The switcher locomotive,
its boiler cut in two,
would kill and maim the passengers
as the" Flyer" ran it through.
The windows of the nickel coach
were completely blown out,
scalding steam claimed twenty six
before they could get out.
Mrs. Ripley was the oldest
at eighty six long years
and little Mary,five years old;
her epitaph's in tears.
One who jumped was crushed to death,
a super of the rail,
two more died at later dates
to end this tragic tale.
Now some would say that tragedies
will always come and go
but to a peaceful farming town,
it was a heavy blow.
For it's the ones who lost their lives
we always shall regret
and looking down those steel tracks
we never will forget;
" The Wreck Of Forty Three "
© Copyright 2008 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
