I waved my baby so long on the 6:51 from West Drayton to Kingdom Come
I shed myself a tear or two then I zipped myself up in my Tyvek suit and went workin’
I’m workin’ on the Railroad
I scrape away the time
With a long-handled spade and a pack of black sacks I’m clearing the line
For the rest of the Great Western Railway Children
I’m working’ on the Railroad in my wellington bots and my old marigolds
Where the women in widow’s weeds weep on the sleepers, I sweep
And I scrub up the blood
And I bag up the bits of the Great Western Railway kids
I’m working’ on the Railroad
I scrape away the slime
Of the disenfranchised, disembowelled, dismembered DIYs
My stomach is strong and I work all day long
When my friends in forensics have quit and gone home
On the railway suicidings
The slick and shining steel
In the darkest dreams of the drivers
To the sound of screaming wheels
In the blackest brackish puddles
And scattered little piles
I work through the night
Clearing the lines
With the troublesome ghosts of the Great Western Railway
With the selfish shades of the Great Western Railway Children
I pick and collect
I disinfect
I bag up the bits of the Great Western Railway kids