ANDREW BLAKEMORE - For As The Final Train Appeared

For as the final train appeared
And stopped beside the platform bare,
The last to journey disembarked
Then carried on their way,
Some stayed behind to watch it leave
With heavy heart and saddened tear,
They saw the guard with flag in hand
And looked on with dismay.
For as he closed each carriage door
Those days were gone for evermore.

The Beeching axe of sixty five
That tore the heart out of this place,
And left a void no soul coul fill
The cruellest cut of all,
For when they closed the station down
Then cleared the sit where it had stood,
A way of life was sadly gone
That few can now recall.
Those olden days of coal and steam
Alas they're now a fading dream.

Twas built in eighteen seventy nine
A building of such grace and charm,
That I remember all too well
When I was but a child,
I saw its windows boarded up
And then the slates fall from its roof,
And watched it when reduced to dust
Our village thus defiled.
Across the line a cold wind blows
For here now lies a thousand woes.

ANDREW BLAKEMORE

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