Verse
Joyful, Satirical, Topical, Miserable: the whole gamut of railway experience may be here in verse or worse
STRANDED AT THE BEACH
or
It started out so well
Good Friday being fine this year
And with no hint of rain,
We thought we’d visit Severn Beach
On our splendid local train
We sat upon the estuary wall
With a just-baked hot cross bun,
And listened to the sound of peace
In the clear bright air and sun.
We walked out to the headland
where a nature path is planned;
Saw celandines and badger scrapes
Heard curlews on the strand.
There could not be a better place
Than this to spend the day.
The headlines of a manic age
seemed half a world away.
It was when we reached the station
And no train on the track
That we began to wrack our brains
As to how we would come back.
The Info Point still babbled on
With the message all was well,
The absence of our homeward train
Told a very different tale.
As we thought that we’d be sleeping
With the pebble s on the shore,
We were rescued by South Glo’shire
And their service 624.
So we say to Andrew Griffiths
That we wouldn’t want to preach
But we lack of sense of humour
When we’re stranded at the Beach.
And whilst we all acknowledge
That emergencies arise
We’d prefer updated info
To a horrible surprise.
Jill Sheppard
FATE’S TRACKS
We start in second place, behind the car
And none of us are going far
Through the sleeping city, above the urban plain
Our window shows life from the train;
We had the vision, dodged Beeching’s aim
In downbeat circles we rose to fame
Support was our saviour, our branch’s dove
As we soared into legend, we challenged powers above
But now rubber wheels threaten Severnside’s lifeline
Inevitably, now begins our railway’s decline
Towards a world of hypocrisy and hate
All I can do is ride my fate.
Alas, too many opt for the dare,
They catch the train but dodge the fare,
Then a peal of laughter at the destination
Fuelled by an earned can of intoxication
And meanwhile, our image declines:
A dead loss, be these parallel lines
Why can’t the dove wield its axe?
Then, at last, some more car tax
Could fuel the need for roads and streets
And then, concluding such rash feats
The opposition will strike, launch its attacks -
Look back — why didn’t we save fate’s tracks?
Drowning our city in silent pollution
No-one noticed the existing solution
Right on our thresholds, else a short stroll away
Running like clockwork, day after day
Even now, in the evening, where the lamps are lit
As the publican realises he’s spilt a bit
The men are oblivious as they cry into their beers
For their guardian’s loss has sparked their tears
They know the consequence of the death of the line:
Worse than self-sufficiency, or a need to redesign,
For there’ll be no bustling gangways, no bags on racks
When the dove has released my own fate’s tracks.
George Buxton
March 2006
THE TRAIN
The train is really slick,
Because it is so quick,
Should we be forced
To make more exhaust?
The train comes down the tracks,
There are lots of bags on the racks,
People crowd onto the train,
The train is taking the strain.
Benjamin Judd
THE BARD TO THE GUARD
If you travel on the Beach line
There’s one thing sure to please;
The driver won’t slam on the brakes
And bring you to your knees.
Instead of sullen scowls
You’ll be instantly beguiled,
As you hand the guard your money -
Ticket’s issued with a smile!
You’ll not be stuck in traffic jams
Or breathe in poisoned air,
You can read or do your crossword,
Or simply sit and stare.
You can gaze out of the window
At the butterflies and bees,
When the buddleia at Sea Mills
In August’s full of these.
From on ancient Roman harbour,
From the estuary to town,
From blackthorn in the springtime
To the frost on snowy ground.
However
If you travel on the Beach train
Watch out for any sign
That the destination’s pointing
To the ending of the line.
And we ought to say in closing
To the drivers and the guards,
Like that famous Bristol duo:
“Job well done, lads” - our regards.
Gill Sheppard of Shirehampton
The Cable Song
Friday 5 September 2008
First Great Western apologises for the cancellation of trains to Severn Beach. Disruption to the service is due to vandalism
Was it an Avonmouth man
with a solid business plan
To exploit the entrepreneurial skills
Of an engineer from Sea Mills
Who managed to inspire
A lorry driver based in Shire
That the market price would not go higher
For copper coated wire?
Late on Thursday night
Someone took a stealthy bite
At a length of cable
Which meant the signal was not able
To let trains proceed.
This caused consternation
At each and every station
Since the train is our salvation.
If you’re tempted to the crime
Of ripping up a branch line
Look carefully at the label.
There is no profit in fibre optic cable.
Julie Boston Friends of Suburban Bristol Railways (FOSBR)
NB Thanks to Network Rail whose workforce restored the service by mid-day.
The Real Feel
When the city hustle-bustle
Has become an awful pain,
Take a trip out to the seaside
On our now augmented train,
The fishermen are on the shore
And casting out their lures,
For exhausted city dwellers
What could be a better cure
Than to walk along the estuary,
Breathing fresh sea-salted air;
And gifted with a calm and peace
We otherwise find rare.
The curlew and the cormorant
Have joined in the refrain;
There’s the far-off eerie hooting
Of the 14.06 train.
In May the scent of hawthorn
Still hangs heavy in the air;
Look for chicory in August –
It’s outside a fox’s lair.
Take a coffee break at Shirley’s,
And step back into the past,
Unlike Costa’s it won’t cost you
And the price leave you aghast.
If it wasn’t for the Beach Line
Most of this would be in vain;
So please all raise your glasses
And let’s hear it for THE TRAIN !
Gill Sheppard
Shirehampton 2008