Next to the level crossing gates
The mighty engine comes to a stop.
Onto the lamp- lit station platform,
A few alighting passengers hop.The signalman chats to the driver
As from the signal box he leans.
Glad to gain some brief relief,
From all the rules and the routines.Two young lads are illuminated in the darkness,
As into the fire- lit cab they look.
It's an engine they'd often seen flying by,
And not a new one for their book.Then - PSST !! - they are both startled,
As steam is let off with a hiss.
For a while they cannot see, or breathe.
For them, this is sheer bliss !As it clears, the bright green boiler
Shines in the reflected light.
Worcester shedded engines are well turned out,
This one a most impressive sight.Three driving wheels towered above them,
No platform there to mask their height.
Their sheer size betrayed the vastness
Of that resting beast's potential might.It was a 'Castle Class ' locomotive,
One of Western Region's pride and joys.
To see it at close quarters
Was such a treat for those young boys.Those beasts weren't designed for stopping trains,
And would haul the Paddington express,
But some smaller engines had been withdrawn,
Leaving the schedules in a mess.Yet that miracle of engineering,
Few more passengers would it carry.
It was destined to make its final trip,
To a scrapyard down at Barry.And soon both the station and the signal box,
Would be meeting similar fates ;
Then automatic barriers
Would replace those crossing gates.The guard then blew his whistle,
The driver waved as they pulled away.
Those young lads didn't realise,
That steam had nearly had its day.The signalman, back in the signalbox,
With its levers polished bright,
Turns the wheel opening the crossing gates,
Vehicles cross from left and right.Now, the boys must hurry home,
They will be late for tea.
Both may well be in trouble,
They will have to wait and see.One day, those lads would fondly recall
When those engines reigned supreme,
And be glad that they were there to see,
The romance and power of steam.
This could only be written by a train spotter. My friends and I spent many hours there and elsewhere in our early teens, spotting trains, until the diesels came along, or we discovered girls.
Brian Smith, October 2025