Seabreeze Train Of Yore

The train whistle's blowing, steaming through Bray,
Heading down to Arklow town, some thirty miles away.
Engineer in his cab looking straight ahead,
Passengers in their seats viewing Bray Head.
Now through a dark tunnel the train is on-going,
Ever onwards towards Greystones it's chugging along.
The sea is close, as the train travels alongside the beach,
It journeys onwards to Wicklow town, just within reach,
Looking far out to the sea, depending on the day,
You could be treated to a yachting regatta, sailing under way.
Highballing now to Rathdrum the train does run,
Into another dark tunnel, a few minutes with no sun.
Rolling on to Avoca Vale the train does shuffle,
Over the trestle and into the valley it does hustle.
Traversing the green vale with its scenery so grand,
Into the village, and on to Woodenbridge, a beautiful land.
Cruising past Shelton, it's downhill to Arklow town,
Nearing the journey's end, the train does slow down,
Coasting into Arklow station and then to a halt.
People get off and flock to the streets with haste,
Spending time at the shops or beach with no time to waste.
City folk out in the country for them a brief retreat,
In a few hours it’s back home, broke, exhausted, and dead beat.

About this poem

A nostalgic look back at the old Seabreeze train from Dublin to Arklow in the sixties and early seventies, this is for the Wicklow leg. And just like life, it’s about the journey and not the destination.

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Written on May 22, 2022

Submitted by PolarPaddy on May 22, 2022

Modified on April 24, 2023

1:12 min read

Quick analysis:

Closest metre Iambic heptameter
Characters 1,229
Words 236
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 23

James Anthony Kenny

Now retired, I am an amateur poet, just starting and using my life experiences from work and travel to guide my works. more…

All James Anthony Kenny poems | James Anthony Kenny Books

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