With the steam engine long gone out of service,
And the railway tracks now a distant past,
With photos, old tickets and ghosts,
Itโ€™s a pity this giant didnโ€™t last.

And the hedgerows and bridges, a many,
Now bereft of the steam and leading wheel.
Running over the track, โ€˜click clack, click clack,
And the whistle blows loudly, as the conductor walks up from the back.

In Maghera this lifeline is now but a distant past,
As the motorcar became more available.
The old railways days were numbered
And from that point, months were counting down fast.

Many a small family will remember, their outings from long ago, as they traveled along the hedgerows the summer months were all aglow.

And the farmers scything grass up along the tracks,
And keeping a eye on the line.
For this could be a dangerous pastime,
Until the steam engine passed by on time.

And the stations and gate lodges,
with their masters and porters galore.
To run this service well,

had a community all their own and more.

With a waiting room and office and as well – it was also a home, as they awaited the next train coming down on the Macfin route slipping in just on time.
The stone cut bridges and their smoke-filled tunnels are a portion of what is left,
Now modern roads replace rail embankments and gates that once kept people safe from the track that once long ago went, โ€˜clink clank, clink clank, clink, clank.
All that is left are the memories of this age of steam engines, romance and simplicity.