The Cornishman Poem by David Lewis Paget

The Cornishman

Rating: 5.0


The train pulled away from the station,
The driver grinned up at the box,
The signalman glowered at the driver's face
As he slotted the lever across,
The train slid easily through the points
As it blew three whistle blasts,
One for the train, one for the box,
And one for Miss Caroline Glass.

Caroline waved him a cheery farewell
From the cottage she owned on the bank,
She'd once been engaged to the signalman,
But now she'd moved up a rank.
'A driver is such an important man, '
She'd said to her former beau,
'He holds all those lives in his hands when he drives,
And he crosses the country, so.'

'But you - you stand in this signal box,
Pull levers, and ring little bells,
I'd rather be out on the railway track
With the steam blowing over the vales! '
And so it was, there, in the pub one night,
While enjoying the Olde Tyme Dance,
The driver cut in, and he whirled her around
As the signalman watched, askance.

'I'm going to be driving The Cornishman, '
The driver had told her then,
'It's really an honour, the Cornwall Express,
Come down, and I'll show you around.
The coaches are really the latest type,
With cushions, and bright as the sun…'
So Caroline gave back her ring that night,
Then shrugged - said: 'It's been fun! '

The signalman brooded, and wept at night,
To think of his Caroline Glass
Alone in the arms of the driver, Ben,
While he sat alone in the house.
He vowed revenge, but he didn't know
How ever he'd win her back,
She never would look at the signal box
While the train was down on the track.

He watched her boarding The Cornishman
First Class, to travel for free,
At the end of the trip, in a cheap hotel…
The signalman thought he could see,
Just what they would do at the end of the line
And his forehead grew lined and grim,
He nearly went mad at the thought of her
Alone in a bed, with him.

The weeks went by as he shifted points
And pulled at the levers yet,
He heard how the couple were now engaged
And the wedding date was set,
In three short weeks they would tie the knot,
She'd be lost to him for good,
He worked in a fever of misery,
And often wept where he stood.

He crept right up to her cottage light
When The Cornishman was away,
He hoped she'd show him some true remorse,
And ask him, then, to stay;
She laughed, 'Don't come like a creeping dog,
Just say what you have to say…'
He took one look at her curling lip,
Then turned, and slunk away.

'The train had sat in the station, set
To wait 'til the signal changed,
The signalman paced back and forth
In the box, like one deranged,
He stared on down at the driver, Ben,
Who looked back up, and laughed,
His fireman shoveled the coal within,
And opened up the draught.

The northern goods would be right on time,
It had always raced straight through,
The signalman slapped his forehead then,
He knew what he had to do.
He hurriedly pulled the signal off,
Then busied him switching points,
He pulled more levers across that day
Than he's ever pulled there since.

The Cornishman started to pull away,
The driver grinned up at the box,
But then it crossed to the southern line
Though nobody noticed the lapse,
It picked up speed as it left the points
And it blew three whistle blasts,
One for the train, one for the box,
And one for Miss Caroline Glass.

Caroline waved him a cheery farewell
From the cottage called Hollyhocks,
She'd once been engaged to the signalman,
Who glared at her now from the Box.
The Cornishman had reached the bend
When the goods came rumbling down,
And the loco's locked head on that day
With a blasting, grinding sound.

The wagons from the goods derailed,
Came hurtling over the bank,
Loaded with coal and bitumen
With the signalman to thank,
The tiny cottage just disappeared
In a storm of iron and coal,
And Caroline Glass was dead, before
She had waved her last farewell.

The signalman turned pale, dead white,
His heart had all but stopped
When he saw what happened to Caroline Glass
As he stood in the signal box
'A Signalman is important too, '
He said in a maddened fear,
'He holds all those lives in his hands when he pulls
All those levers and bells, my dear.'

8 June 2008

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David Lewis Paget

David Lewis Paget

Nottingham, England/live in Australia
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