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To the Trackman
by M. H. Moses
Or perhaps you've walked the settling fills
While rain in torrents fell,
Or rerailed an engine down in the yards
On a night as dark as Hell.
You've tramped the cuts on frozen feet
Where rocks are apt to slip
And heard the scream of Number Three
As it roared through Murphy's Dip.
If you've stopped in a shack beside the track
After knowing the track was clean
Eaten a frozen snack from a paper sack
Then you know just what I mean.
You're in a class not known to brass
A He-Man rugged and stout
The one damn man in the railroad plan
They just can't do without.