(A very old post from my Greatest Hits Volume 1 album - note the indebtedness to Auden's "mare" imagery)

Slowly - ever so slowly - inching on our way;

Destination Whitby, vivid Autumn day.

Scenery magnificent, weather matching too,

Clouds of alto cirrus, sky of china blue.

Picking up momentum now, further down the line,

Engine snorting like a mare in steady 4/4 time.

Leaning from a window, moorland coasting by,

Nigel Gresley out in front, cinder in your eye.

Stopping every now and then gives us chance to see

Railway architecture preserved so carefully.

Enthusiasts and visitors milling on the station

Enjoying all the spectacle in wondrous fascination.

A chance to get a close-up as it is Whitby-bound

Drinking the intoxicant heady smells and sound.

Hissing steam and choking smoke combined with pungent oil

A living beast of burden, easy with its toil.

The livery of coaches maintains this classic theme,

With carriages resplendent in crimson and in cream.

Excitement on the platform doubles in the ranks

The downtrain is arriving and is pulled by saddle tanks.

Calling off at Levisham, Heartbeat’s Goathland too,

Through Grosmont, Sleights and Ruswarp, to Whitby we are due.

Mystical, historical, town of jet and sailors

Captain Cook and Dracula, fleets of Whitby whalers.

Slowing by the estuary, hiss of pistons sing

To River Esk in Whitby from Beck in Pickering.

Anticipate arriving, outward journey done,

And pleasant realisation that the homeward trip’s to come.