The lonely sound of the midnight train,
Taking another dark trip again;
Where is it going,
Where has it been?
Did anyone see it
Going round the bend?
It's a mournful sound, the midnight train;
You can hear the whistle grow and wane,
And wherever it's been,
Leaves joy and pain,
Covering tracks
Where the moonlight's lain.
It's the same old sound, of the midnight train,
That monster of iron, never knew it's name;
Will it come back,
Or not return again-
For as long as we've known
It's always been the same.
I have ALWAYS loved trains - the spirit of Woody Guthrie lives in me - so ofcourse I love this poem; a great one! ! ! Oh, how I wish I were riding the rails right now... Westward bound, going nowhere! !
Midnight train to Georgia! ! ! ! that is your name and where it goes! ! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She saw the midnight train comin' around the bend, trailing after it a column of smoke, with about no end. Little Patti always asked herself: Where does it go? . The answer, Missy Masterman, was always blo- wing in the wind! ! But you are only allowed one (4) , not 5 it's in this, your, poem! ! Hee-hee. To MyPoemList just the same. Bri :)