|
• Written by David Hurdman & Hannah Hurdman
• Recorded by Doonvarna
(Catherine Hurdman – keyboard, David Hurdman – acoustic guitar & vocals,
Hannah Hurdman – flute, Richard Hurdman – drums)
It was a cool September night.
The clock it struck eleven
High above the platform of the station.
The Scotch Express was due,
But as yet there was no sign
Of a disaster that was soon to befall Grantham.
Though the signals all screamed danger,
The train sped through the gloom.
On the footplate, Talbot and Fleetwood
Steered the train towards its doom.
'Twas the station's postal workers
First sensed something amiss
As they wheeled their trolleys out in the dead of night.
In the distance they spied the lamps
Approach with remorseless speed.
Then all realised the train's desperate plight.
Though the signals all screamed danger,
The train sped through the gloom.
On the footplate, Talbot and Fleetwood
Steered the train towards its doom.
Chorus
Were they ill? Were they drunk?
Were they fighting? Were they late?
What was the cause that sealed the fate
Of this train's tragic secret? The truth we'll never know -
It went unspoken to the grave.
The train tore through the station
Towards the vicious curve
That in seconds would show it had no mercy.
On that bend the train derailed.
The Express came off the track,
Halting the ill-fated journey.
Though the signals all screamed danger,
The train sped through the gloom.
On the footplate, Talbot and Fleetwood
Steered the train towards its doom.
Chorus
Fourteen lost their lives
Amidst the tangled wreck
Of splintered wood and iron.
Government investigations
Could ascertain no cause
And so Grantham was left to mourn.
Chorus
|
