The 6.15 from Paddinton goes chugging down the track,
The Guard blows on his whistle, and the engine whistles back.
The carriages are following, swaying as they go,
The passengers are also swaying to and fro.

Through Maidenhead, Reading and Newbury in Berks,
The monster travels onwards, with steam, grey smoke and sparks.
Past Swindon down in Wiltshire and then Chipping Sodbury,
Through tunnels, over bridges, always in a 'big' hurry.

The countryside goes whooshing by, as we travel on,
With fields, lanes and cottages, one moment seen, then gone.
Villages, farms and valleys, tree clad hills and downs,
Flashing past the windows, with 'swishy swooshy' sounds.

It now approaches Bristol, the driver applies the brakes,
With screeching and with creaking, what a hullabaloo it makes.
It's reached it's destination where the Porter and the Clerk,
Will check on all the passengers, before they disembark.

The loud station announcer declares she's the next train out,
The fireman stokes the boiler, and the green flag's waved about.
The train is off and whistles, as it thunders out of view,
The trails of smoke are lifting and the sun is breaking through.

The 6.15 from Paddington is now on her way to Wales,
To Cardiff and to Swansea, for the shops and summer sales.

Ernestine Northover

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-6-15-from-paddington-steam-days/