Wooden wheels and sore feet
Heading west often ended in defeat.
Even though the trail has been blazed
Your destination is still so far away.
1869 has been such a treat,
For this is the year the railroads meet.
Now we can up and hitch a ride
over 1000 miles of rail road ties.
Heading west to my land to farm
this big greasy rig got me there no harm.
Connected by big golden spike,
Thanks to the railroad we will no longer have to take the hike
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well expressed thoughts and feelings nicely embellished in beautiful rhyme with conviction. Thanks for sharing Dillian.