|From the Perth Newspaper the Western Mail 6 Apr 1939 p. 10.|
And the smoke that comes drifting back;
The clank, clank, clank, as wheels fly round—
And ballast up-flung from the track.
Ho! the signal turns from red to green,
A shrilly whistle starts the train—
The guard has given "Right away";
Then back from green to red again.
Ho! for the rumble of box-cars,
Out where the sparks and cinders fly;
The Hobo blood is in my veins—
To all the world I'll say good-bye.
To camp beneath the water tanks—
Get water from the engine tap—
A swab of waste to light a fire—
Hot billy tea and toast mayhap.
I've ridden the hard and grimy rods;
Have begged for a hand-out in vain—
Lain in the sun 'neath "Tarps." Ye gods,
But never, NEVER again.
'Tis only a safety valve blowing,
But I often long to turn back
And be lulled to sleep by the rhythm
Of the wheels on the endless track.
TOP T., Wagin.