Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WITH THE BREAKDOWN SQUAD, by PATRICK MACGILL Poet's Biography First Line: A tanner down on a three spot, / losing again, he blowed!' Last Line: "business is doing well." Subject(s): Death; Disasters; Fire; News; Railroad Wrecks; Dead, The; Train Wrecks | ||||||||
"Wreck of the city express, sir," The newspaper sellers yell, The people are buying, buying, My! don't the papers sell, And the publishers say in their usual way "Business is doing well." "A TANNER down on a three spot, Losing again, he blowed!" "Give me a fill of tobacco." "Here, a one that I owed." "Losing again with Heavens! A passenger off the road!" Seventy-nine was the engine, Speediest on the line We rushed to the van like demons And waited the signal sign, Then flashing afar like a scymitar Went the flame of seventy-nine. Out in the night as phantoms, Out to the wreck we steal, Horror urging our heart-beats, Feeling as sinners feel The rails like souls in torment Whimpered beneath the wheel. Above us the moon went sailing White as the face of death, Watching the engine gliding Over the world beneath, While we pulled at our pipes in silence, And heard our every breath. The engine fire is cleaving A path to the stars on high The cirrus clouds in the heaven Like burial shrouds go by, Sent from the dim hereafter For men and women who die. In the gaunt and gelid cutting Ghouls of the darkness brood, A lone, belated raven Cries through the solitude, And the signals rise to danger Redder than human blood. A crash of brakes in the darkness A rush and a crash again: Men are wailing in anguish, Women laugh in their pain As a prayer that's prayed by a grave new made Is the groan of the coupling chain. The rails are splashed with crimson, There's blood on the catcher bar, The writhing engine hisses Through the sky-roofed abattoir As the flame in a midnight churchyard Is the light of each chilly star. "Out with the lint and bandage See are the stretchers spread Out with a man to the signal And guard the line ahead. Haste, and look to the living Before you bother the dead. There's sorrow deeper than tears That words in vain may speak The tearless mother watches The red on her baby's cheek, And downcast unwet lashes Tell of the hearts that break. Out in the night and the horror We labour and curse or pray, "Give me a drink of water " "I'll meet her some other day " We place the maimed on the stretchers, The dead in the six-foot way. "Two inches wide in the gauging, Out with the ramps and yes, The facing points must have done it Lord, what an awful mess! But hurry and have it ready For passing the night express." "Awful railway disaster," The newspapers chronicle The men in the streets are buying Gracious! the papers sell, And the publishers say in their usual way "Business is doing well." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WRECK OF THE GREAT NORTHERN by ROBERT HEDIN THE TAY BRIDGE DISEASTER by WILLIAM MCGONAGALL TRAINWRECKED SOLDIERS by JOHN FREDERICK NIMS A WRECKED LOCOMOTIVE by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE THE ENGINEER'S SIGNAL by FRANCIS BRET HARTE ON THE LATE SHIFT by PATRICK MACGILL SAVING A TRAIN by WILLIAM MCGONAGALL THE ASHTABULA DISASTER by JULIA A. MOORE THE MAN IN THE CAB by NIXON WATERMAN |
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