It was early in the New Year
What a bastard of a time
When they didn't have an engine
To go on Ninety-Nine
So careful were they with their plans
We knew what was to be
They were going to use the engine
That come off One-Three-Three
But the driver that returned it
How forlorn did he look
The repairs that he had in mind
Nearly filled the fitter's book
Her tubes and stays were leaking
The union hose was torn
The brick arch had fallen in
And the baffle plate was gone
The pistons they were blowing
Her brakes, they wouldn't grip
As rough as guts to ride in
And a fair old bitch to slip
Now when the fitters read it
Not one word did they say
Just picked up their hammer and chisels
And slowly walked away
The foreman rang up on the phone
His voice it fairly thundered
The only engine that I've left
Is the Little Pig 400
I'll fill her up with wood and coal
She's one that will not fail
But I would like to see old Jerry's* face
If she goes on the Mail.
Notes
*Believed to refer to Gerry Moriarty, Commissioner for Qld Railways 1952-1962.
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