The Rocket’s return

’TWAS midnight in the rail museumAnd in majestic numberThe locos lay, a fine arraySeemingly a-slumber. 

Then the silence that surroundedEach epoch-making marqueWith suddenness was shatteredAs a strange noise rent the dark.  

The locos all bestirred to hearA clanking and a hissingThen ‘Hush and listen!’ came the cry,‘The Rocket’s reminiscing!’  

The Rocket! Father of them allFrom the dawn of locomotionWhose mighty pistons, rods and wheelsHad set the world in motion.  

What knowledge, guidance, wisdomWould this Steam Age sage impart?The locos listened awestruckTo The Rocket’s heart-to-heart.

‘Ye know me well from historyHow I triumphed at RainhillGuided by the StephensonsI yet recall the thrill!  

‘Then came that 1830 dayWhen, belching smoke, I rodeFrom Liverpool to ManchesterAlong the iron road.

‘The great and good I carried,Boiler bubbling, wheels a-tappin’(It’s true I killed one poor MPBut accidents will happen.)  

‘And from that small beginningSteel rails through Britain grewBringing travel to the massesAnd trainspotting hordes to Crewe.  

‘Yet I was soon retiredAs stronger locos rolledMy chimney stopped a-belchingMy firebox went stone cold.  

‘But I escaped the scrapyardMy metalwork was buffedThey put me in this fine museumAnd I was really chuffed!  

‘From here, I’ve watched the railways boomAnd then I’ve watched them bustSaw them nationalised, rationalised, privatisedAnd many left to rust.

‘I still hate that b*stard BeechingWith his slash-and-burn ‘review’Why didn’t some branch-line userStick a coal lump up his flue?  

‘Now, two centuries down the lineI feel compelled to speak with youOf that botch, that bungle, that fiascoThat omnishambles – HS2.  

‘A sordid, sorry, sickening taleOf incompetents and duffersAnd now with many billions spentIt’s finally hit the buffers.  

‘The northern leg has been cut offJust The Smoke to Brum remainsBut, ye gods, it’ll be a decade moreBefore we see some trains!  

‘I gave birth to the railway ageBut like all us rolling stockI’m disgusted how that legacyHas been left to go to cock.

‘This water on my smokestackIs tears, not condensationI weep with rage at MPs and ‘experts’Who’ve ideas above their station.

‘So fill my boiler, fire me upLet’s derail these costly farces!I’m going top speed (yes, 30mph!) to WestminsterTo put a Rocket up their *rses!’