Perhaps I’m sentimental, but, in my mind, I seem
To remember childhood journeys through a veil of smoke and steam.
And, down the tunnel of time, I see a past for which I yearn,
When a train trip was an adventure, a chance to live and learn.

The world passed by those windows, backyards and country scenes,
Just like those on the carriage walls and, in my childhood dreams,
I was an adventurer, like those fettlers on trikes outback,
A battler waiting to jump a freight, a traveller down life’s track.

How lucky we were to be alive when a train trip meant a ride
Behind an engine like a living thing, with its insides all outside.
And a platform ticket for a penny was little price to pay
For the joy of those reunions, or the sorrow of going away.

You don’t meet many people in a car or bus or plane,
But there was many a friendship made to the rhythm of a train.
If you dream of steam and carriages, card games and conversation,
Well, perhaps you’re sentimental too, and I’ll see you at the station.