Black Fives
Puffing into Rugby,
But this loco’s not a pipe,
Shunting on to Inverness,
With giant apples, ripe.
Rolling out of Derby
When the trees are like a fern,
Let’s open up the fire-box,
And watch the tubas burn.
Pulling into Euston,
Where the bowler-hatted rain –
Then chuffing-up at Templecombe,
A spiral-peel of train.
She’s right on time, in weathered-black,
But never bright cerise –
The workhorse of the LMS,
From Crewe to mantlepiece.
Rhyming Couplets 