Silver Rails

SILVER RAILS
I hang my lantern on a hook,
  My bedroll I lay by.
Never again in my caboose,
  with boxcars on the fly.
Never again a hotbox will I switch out,
  Nor a 'flaggie' leave behind.
It's OVER!, five and fifty,
  since on as a Lad I signed.
To ride those SILVER RAILS . . . .
  Thru dark and gloomy night.
O'er rough beds and smooth beds,
 . . . . . . . . . . With hamlets left and right.
In daylight, In black night.
  Thru ice 'n sleet 'n snow,
Oer flatland lands and hill lands,
  with cities all aglow:
I'm gonna' miss all my cronies,
  as I go along life's busy way.
I'll think of them often,
and the 'scrapes' we've all been thru.
  I hope they think of ME
  and I hope they miss Me too.
So, I sit now in my lazy chair,
  to ponder and to dream;
about those SILVER RAILS
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