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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 8, Issue 10 (February 1, 1934)

The Signal

The Signal.

There's a rushing and a roar,
And the little houses shake,
When the northbound express goes shrieking by.
As it hurtles past in thunder The whole earth seems to quake,
And its echoes flare up crashing to the sky.
We are crowded here and poor,
We who live along the line,
We wage a losing war with smoke and smut;
Yet I wouldn't change to-morrow If the choice were really mine,
I'd want to stay, if only in a hut.
For there's someone on the engine—
(No I would not be away!)
Who waves to me as flashing he goes past. That signal spreads a brightness,
A sunshine on the day,
That never smut nor smoke can overcast.
So I wouldn't leave my cottage For the palace of the queen;
Each morning I must wave my swift reply. We are watching, he and I.
And the message flies between,
As the northbound express goes dashing by.

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