Ngahere Railwaylovin Blues,1958.
(For Sonny James)

 
Hate to tell you
but it's all those coal trains
hauling my resistance off into the black valley
that haunt me when they blow

them horns

them tunes

them long gone songs:

the love smoke of my babylovin.

Have to admit
the fireman with a shovel
all lit up like Dante walking into Hades
flickers in me now

them fires of sweat

them blisterin coals

them whistle sobs and moans:

the furnace of my spookydreams.

Chokes my heart
to swallow love this good
when steely tracks in moonlight scream
but its me, not dogs, that howl

them muscle pistons

the blastin steam

them boiler bustin heaves:

the oily greasy dungareedolls.

I want to tell you but I can't.
I want to ride that train.
I want to sit up in the cab
and ride it back from where it came

to where I got on
listening through my bedroom wall
eight years old in the railway house
beside the Ngahere-Reefton line
to that Lonesome Cowboy of the Hit Parade
plug me through the heart for good
with a simple song:
Young Love.

© 2001 Trout &
Jeffrey Paparoa Holman