Saturday Night Horror

Iron Road


By ‘digger’ in The Railway Issue 1929

Talk about your rough trains
That bump you till your sore,
There is none that can compare
With number one two-four.

She starts with South Grafton at .4.45
Along the track she picks up to the length of 55
With a rickety compo brake-van

That shakes you off your feet.
Some in use for 50 years,
And now are obsolete.

When rolling down the Red Hill
At a fair dinkum pace, with lefty on the footplate,
It’s like an aerial race.

You hang on to your hand-lamp
Until your fingers pain,
And try to write your journal
To the rocking of the train.

I have worked the Mountain pick-up
To Bathurst over the plains,
From the South on to the Border
In sunshine and in rain.

I have travelled many troop trains
While serving at the war,
But the roughest of them all
Is surely one two-four.