book excerpt
It's lonely at night
on the rails of our land,
where no one at all
would lend a kind hand,
to an engine who tried,
but just couldn't go
not fastest of fast,
but slowest of slow.
But Walter was there,
to stack up the wood
and whisper a word to
make her feel good.
Old Nine might have quit,
just given up the jig
If it hadn't have been
for her love of that pig!