En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Cooking Recalls The Past

The steam is hissing from the spout
As the pressure cooker pushes it out
Takes my back to my childhood past
As great steam engines go flying past

Huffing and puffing plumes of smoke
You cough and splutter it makes you choke
The ground it shakes under foot
As you hear that high pitched toot

Traveling along its metal road
Its boiler bubbling to near explode
As it carries its heavy load
Driver on his footplate stood

Face covered in oil and with soot
Proud was he as was his dad
For an engine driver he was glad

Timer rings cooking done
Brings me back form times of childhood fun

25 10 10
Chellaston

poem by Jim O'Donnell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Steam Engine

Lead vocal: micky dolenz
Produced by: chip douglas
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
Mr. engineer, you see Ive got a little problem here.
My baby, shes aboard your train,
She says shes never comin back again.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
She told me good bye, she said Im leavin you behind.
I think Im gonna die, if I hear that whistle whine.
Mr. engineer, slow the engine down some more.
Youre movin movin just a little too fast,
Ive got my foot down clear to the floor.
Steam engine, engine 99
Steam drivers, rollin right on by.
(steam engines)gotta keep on keep on rollin.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.
(steam engines)shes gonna leave me behind.
(steam engines)i might as well go home.

song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Janice and You at Waterloo Station

At Waterloo Station
the steam engines
puffed powerful steam
reaching up

to the rooftop
and you stood there
hands in your pockets
your nose sniffing in

the white and grey smell
you can taste it
on your tongue
and Janice beside you

her eyes looked up
at the rooftop
as the steam
reached high

her hands clutching
the small bag
I want to be a train driver
when I'm older

you said
I want to smell
that smell
and breathe in

that steam and shovel
coal in the engine
maybe you will
Janice said

maybe you'll be
on a train like that
big and black
and powerful

she put her hand
under your arm
and squeezed
Gran said we can be

what we want
if we want it
bad enough
Janice added

you felt her hand
under your arm
sensed her squeeze it
we went to the seaside

on a big black train
like this last year
you said
and I put my head

out the train window
and my mum said
keep your head in
or a train

will knock it off
that'd be horrible
Janice said
she clutched

closer to you
as the steam train
puffed out more steam
and the sound was loud

and powerful
and she said
maybe
when you're an engine driver

you can take me
to the seaside
with Gran
yes

you said
and if you come
to the engine
before you take off

I can show you
the engine
and how powerful it is
and she smiled

and put her head
on your shoulder
yes
you said softly

when I grow up
and when I am older.

poem by Terry Collett
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Put Your Foot On the Pedal

No ember that you've struck...
Could heat up a fire burning out.
And no engine that is cool...
Should keep ready,
For a driver who ain't behind the wheel.
Or thinking that a boost,
Is not needed to get started.

You gotta give up,
Mo' steam.
And get up offa that...
Low self-esteem.

You gotta give up,
Mo' steam.
And get up offa that,
Low self-esteem.

Put your foot on the pedal,
And steer me to all your needs.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put the pedal to the metal.

Put your foot on the pedal,
And steer me to all your needs.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put the pedal to the metal.

Put that pedal to the metal,
If you wanna get with me.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put that pedal to the metal.

Put your foot on the pedal,
And steer me to all your needs.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put the pedal to the metal.

No ember that you've struck...
Could heat up a fire burning out.
And no engine that is cool...
Should keep ready,
For a driver who ain't behind the wheel.
Or thinking that a boost,
Is not needed to get started.

You gotta give up,
Mo' steam.
And get up offa that...
Low self-esteem.

You gotta give up,
Mo' steam.
And get up offa that,
Low self-esteem.

Put that pedal to the metal,
If you wanna get with me.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put that pedal to the metal.

Put that pedal to the metal,
If you wanna get with me.
Put your foot on the pedal.
Put that pedal to the metal.

If you wanna get with me.
You gotta pedal to the metal.
Put your foot on the pedal.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Locomotive

A big locomotive has pulled into town,
Heavy, humungus, with sweat rolling down,
A plump jumbo olive.
Huffing and puffing and panting and smelly,
Fire belches forth from her fat cast iron belly.

Poof, how she's burning,
Oof, how she's boiling,
Puff, how she's churning,
Huff, how she's toiling.
She's fully exhausted and all out of breath,
Yet the coalman continues to stoke her to death.

Numerous wagons she tugs down the track:
Iron and steel monsters hitched up to her back,
All filled with people and other things too:
The first carries cattle, then horses not few;
The third car with corpulent people is filled,
Eating fat frankfurters all freshly grilled.
The fourth car is packed to the hilt with bananas,
The fifth has a cargo of six grand pi-an-as.
The sixth wagon carries a cannon of steel,
With heavy iron girders beneath every wheel.
The seventh has tables, oak cupboards with plates,
While an elephant, bear, two giraffes fill the eighth.
The ninth contains nothing but well-fattened swine,
In the tenth: bags and boxes, now isn't that fine?

There must be at least forty cars in a row,
And what they all carry -- I simply don't know:

But if one thousand athletes, with muscles of steel,
Each ate one thousand cutlets in one giant meal,
And each one exerted as much as he could,
They'd never quite manage to lift such a load.

First a toot!
Then a hoot!
Steam is churning,
Wheels are turning!

More slowly - than turtles - with freight - on their - backs,
The drowsy - steam engine - sets off - down the tracks.
She chugs and she tugs at her wagons with strain,
As wheel after wheel slowly turns on the train.
She doubles her effort and quickens her pace,
And rambles and scrambles to keep up the race.
Oh whither, oh whither? go forward at will,
And chug along over the bridge, up the hill,
Through mountains and tunnels and meadows and woods,
Now hurry, now hurry, deliver your goods.
Keep up your tempo, now push along, push along,
Chug along, tug along, tug along, chug along
Lightly and sprightly she carries her freight
Like a ping-pong ball bouncing without any weight,
Not heavy equipment exhausted to death,
But a little tin toy, just a light puff of breath.
Oh whither, oh whither, you'll tell me, I trust,
What is it, what is it that gives you your thrust?
What gives you momentum to roll down the track?
It's hot steam that gives me my clickety-clack.
Hot steam from the boiler through tubes to the pistons,
The pistons then push at the wheels from short distance,
They drive and they push, and the train starts a-swooshin'
'Cuz steam on the pistons keeps pushin' and pushin';
The wheels start a rattlin', clatterin', chatterin'
Chug along, tug along, chug along, tug along! . . . .

poem by Julian Tuwim
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My Childhood Garden

my childhood garden

my childhood garden
lush and green
it was so happy it made me scream
my joy and hopes
and all my mopes
my childhood garden

my childhood garden
with the ups and downs
when i jumped i could not touch the ground
with my purle ponys
it made it homey
my childhood garden

my childhood garden
flying high
with the little lies
the grass fine
up in the sky my kite
my childhood garden

my childhood garden
now in the past
i now know that it can never last
now as i get taller
it was differnt when i was smaller
my childhood garden

poem by Danielle Eager
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The 6.15 from Paddington - Steam Days

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.

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Essence of the Village and new dawn!

Soot over the chimney
And hoot wakes up the moody.
A Man wears an overall
With a spade he puts charcoal.
Moves slowly the steam engine
Early in the morning!
Train goes passing meadows
Cows eat the grass
Ferry crosses and the church bell rings
Village awakes!
The baker rolls the dough
A man with a plough,
The van brings the newspapers from the town
And the middle aged skinny driver's strange behaviour
With the widowed milkmaid turned into a new folklore
And sooner or later that definitely goes to the paper?

to my faraway poet friend robyn selters in gratitude!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bad Brakes

Bad brakes whole car shakes
Looks like Im heading for a breakdown
Black smoke engine beginning to choke
I must be heading for a breakdown
I pulled up for a mouth of coca-cola
Down at samuels cafe
Saw a little spanish lady coming over
Said lady are you going my way she said o-lay
Bad brakes carburettor shakes
Looks like youre heading for a breakdown
Black smoke engine beginning to choke
We must be heading for a breakdown
We hit the road at 90 miles an hour
Heading for frisco bay
She said senor you got cop on your shoulder
I said oh now wed better not stay
We got to get away with our
Bad brakes carburettor shakes
Looks like were heading for a breakdown
He was catching up nose right inside our mirror
When the motor blowed
We climbed out and she began to shiver
Oh no sir please let us go
He said dont you know you got
Bad brakes carburettor shakes
Looks like you bought yourself a breakdown
Black smoke engine beginning to choke
And youve got yourself a breakdown
Bad brakes engine beginning to shake
Looks like weve got ourselves a breakdown
Black smoke engine beginning to choke
We got ourselves a breakdown

song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Belgrave Town

Oh sing me the ballad of old Belgrave Town
The roads that lead to it they wind up and down
By huge mountain ash that dwarf all other trees
The giants on the high ground that sough in the breeze.

Belgrave east of Melbourne of Puffing Billy fame
The old Puffing steam engine who lives up to his name
From Belgrave to Gembrook and back at least twice a day
With his load of passengers he puffs all the way.

I lived in old Belgrave for a number of years
Knew happy and sad times there laughter and tears
The laughter of the kookaburra sounded so shrill
At dawn on a gum tree up by Terrys Hill.

In Belgrave and the Dandenong Ranges I still have friends there
Their great love of Nature a bond with them I share
The gateway to Sherbrooke the high wooded Countryside
The Dandenong Ranges National Park it is known Worldwide.

The squawk of the white cockies and the familiar song
Of those birds of the high woods the pied currawong
And the crimson rosellas sing as they fly up and down
Through the high wood that overlooks old Belgrave Town.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Death Alley Driver

Rough and ready rider
In a supersonic sound machine
Rock and roll survivor
Chrome pipes between your knees
Running all the red lites
Your gonna make a dead stop
But you just cant see the signs
Oh - youll never win the race
But you cant give up the chase
Death alley driver
Living at high speed
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...who knows what you need
Death alley driver...
One hundred twenty five smokin on the turns
Always on the hit and run
But you never learn...
Running from the man... and youre running
From yourself
Another dirty angel heading straight to hell
Oh - youll never win the race
But you wont give up the chase
Death alley driver...
Live in overdrive...death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...ride to stay alive
Death alley driver...
Lets go
Red lights in the mirror
Danger on the band
Got to take a detour cause a road blocks up ahead
He takes you on the corner with a wave of his hand
Death is in the back seat of a big old black sedan
Oh - youll never win the race...
As you turn and see his face...
Death alley driver...
Movin for the kill
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...
Time is standing still...
Death alley driver...
Always on the run cause youre a...
Death alley driver
Love the way it feels
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver
Hell on wheels...
Death alley driver... ooh -

song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steam

Stand back!
said stand back!
What are those dogs doing sniffing at my feet?
Theyre on to something, picking up
Picking up this heat, this heat
{chorus 1:}
Give me steam
And how you feel can make it real
Real as anything youve seen
Get a life with the dreamers dream
You know your culture from your trash
You know your plastic from your cash
When I lose sight of the track
You know the way back
But I know you
You know your stripper from your paint
You know your sinner from your saint
Whenever heavens doors are shut
You kick them open, but
I know you
{chorus 2:}
Give me steam
And how you feel can make it real
Real as any place youve been
Get a life with the dreamers dream
Stand back!
said stand back!
Cant you see Ive lost control? Im getting indiscreet
Youre moving in so close til Im picking up
Picking up this heat, this heat
[chorus 1]
You know your green from your red
You know the quick from the dead
So much better than the rest
You think youve been blessed
But I know you
You know your leather from your snake
You know the throttle from the brake
You know your straight line from a curve
Youve got a lot of nerve
But I know you
[chorus 2]
Everybody nosedive
Hold your breath, count to five
Backslap, boobytrap
Cover it up in bubblewrap
Room shake, earthquake
Find a way to stay awake
Its gonna blow, its gonna break
This is more than I can take
Oh yeah, I need steam
Feel the steam around me
Ah youre turning up the heat
When I start to dream aloud
til youre movin hands and feet
Wont you step into this cloud of steam
This steam
[chorus 1]
Help me yeah
Ready to steam out the log jam
Stir crazy from the freezer to the boil
Waters bubbling, its b..b..b..bubbling
Bubbling bubbling bubbling bubbling
Life is coming to the boil
Gimme steam, lady
Gimme the steam around me now
On a high, coming alive
said gimme some steam!

song performed by by Peter Gabriel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Male Testosterone Invincibility

myth postulates teenage males
perceive themselves as invincible
consider themselves bullet proof

personally speaking as a past male
teenage survivor that rode the wild side
walked limped away where others died

accidents over 100 kph on open roads
accidents where nine out of ten died
I walked away from more than nine alive

friends used to come up touch me for luck
riding at speed in fools gear not full gear
living legends survived others swiftly died

back in the day when perfection was hourly
the impossible of course took just a little longer
strange even to this day accidents hurt badly

were all in cities low speed safe road rules obeyed riding
where people in cars talking on their cell phones driving
wasted flesh driving straight into you swift escape sped

yes proud superman and I were to stop cars
with nothing else except our body on highway
but it is a bit much when car drives over foot

when your immobile at a red light waiting for green
but that was an Indonesian car driver in no rules Jakarta
where speaking on cell phone driving is driver’s norm

hate cell phone driver’s driving all over road if you like
but keep eyes in the back of your head survive you might
coz getting run over by a ton of metal is heavy duty hard

poem by Terence George Craddock
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I guess the two things I was most interested in were telescopes and steam engines. My father was an engineer on a threshing rig steam engine and I loved the machinery.

quote by Clyde Tombaugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mr. Limousine Driver

Hey, mr. limousine driver,
Can i ask you a favor, please?
Let her in my door and don't look back here no more,
I know you can do it with ease.
Although, we're on our way from the show,
And you don't like to get off the track.
Please, mr. chauffeur, let's talk things over,
'cause she says she loves me and that's a fact.
Can you hear what i'm sayin', it's not like i'm prayin',
You know, because you've done it before.
So, why make me wait, please don't hesitate,
Just get back here, and let her in my door.
Hey, mr. limousine driver,
I know you know where it's at.
Too late will be later, you just read your evening paper,
And don't worry 'bout what's goin' on in back.
Hey, mr. limousine driver ...
Hey, mr. limousine driver ...

song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back Street Driver

Written by ricky & marty wilde
[note: these lyrics are not as accurate as may be expected. they were all deciphered by me, through listening hard to the song. if there are official lyrics out there, let me know.]
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Well here Im going
Im on the road again
Back street driving
I wanna go again
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Anytime you go I get so blue
Anytime I have I wanna spend with you
Hitch a ride I take a train (gotta go)
Any road just means the same (cos you know)
Anyway I wanna get to you
Well the wheels keep turning
Im on the move again
Gotta keep turning
Im really going again
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Im not a back street driver
I gotta let you know
Back street driving
I really wanna go
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
One night we stood beneath the stars
You said the rebels always aint that far
Wrap it up and here I go (gotta go)
Shoot the chance Im ready to roll (cos you know)
Gonna ride on through the night with you
Well here Im going
Im on the road again
Back street driving
I wanna go again
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Im not a back street driver
Im just a back staying driver
Said oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Wrap it up and here I go (gotta go)
Shoot the chance Im ready to roll (cos you know)
Gonna ride on through the night to you
Well here Im going
Im on the road again
Back street driving
I gotta go again
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Im not a back street driver
Im just a back staying driver
Said oh oh oh
Oh oh oh

song performed by by Kim Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Steam-train to the stars

there would be no count-down
or blast-off
no excessive speed
just a gradual accelaration

no need for cumbersome attire
a blazer or a sweater would suffice

they're off
roof-top height
then the clouds

or is it steam
or smoke
or fire

no it's the setting sun

and then the parachutes
we counted three

the engine-driver
the fireman
and the guard

someone observed
jokingly

poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
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Riposte

Come back to me my days of
Past,
In your arms my life would last,
No knowledge is divine but ignorance,
My present is blessed
with your remembrance
I want to relive in full glory
the days of childhood,
In this lustful materialistic world
Nothing seems so good.
Like a kid again I falter to speak
Creating language of my own
Better than many senseless sermon.
To laugh to giggle endlessly
Now my amusements are so empty.
To walk around hand in hand
Mom and dad on either side
With my bare foot touching the sand,
Along the trees adorned road
Now I am deserted in a crowd.
Bring back those little friends
With their radiant smile,
That had been missing for a while.
It’s hard to face reality,
My life lacks the simplicity
Like that of my childhood,
For many years to come
Nothing will ever be so fine,
So comeback if you can
The past days of mine.

poem by Seema Aarella
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Steam Dreams

In this day of electric and diesel, very rarely is seen,
A shining locomotive, which is powered by steam.
Back in the days, when my parents were born,
The sight of a steam train was quite the norm.

Whenever a steam train catches my eye,
I stand, watching in awe, as it passes by.
‘Oh wow! Look! ’ I say, as I point a finger,
And the memory of it in my mind will linger.

Steam trains will never completely die out,
As, thankfully, there’s still quite a few about.
About a steam train, there’s something really quite dramatic.
And at the chance of riding on one, people are often ecstatic.

I remember seeing The Flying Scotsman at Salisbury station,
And I stood there marvelling at it with such great admiration.
The engine and all of its carriages just looked so smart.
The sight of such a train, never fails to quicken the heart.

Steam trains are so very elegant in their style.
To spot one, enthusiasts will travel many a mile.
It strange to think that years ago, they were all the rage,
When, they are such a very rare sight, in this day and age.

The sight of the world famous Orient Express,
Is one which will never ever fail to impress.
Through the windows, you can see the plush seats,
Where excited passengers will sit down and eat.

On board, the historic carriages of brown and cream,
They serve expensive champagne and gourmet cuisine.
Sat in a world of pure indulgence, passengers glide,
Through the green and pleasant British countryside.

The carriages have all been restored to their former glory;
If they could talk, I’m sure they could all share quite a story.
The carriages have been described as ‘palaces on wheels’,
And I would really love to know just how that feels.

Still being a very rare sight in these modern times,
I fancy taking a trip on a steam train, to sit and dine.
I guess you would have to pay quite a princely sum,
But I think it would be worth it, just to travel on one.

poem by Angela Wybrow
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Mr. Cab Driver

Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to let me in
Mr Cab Driver don't like my kind of skin
Mr Cab Driver you're never gonna win
Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to pick me up
Mr Cab Driver I might need some help
Mr Cab Driver only thinks about himself
Here we go

Mr Cab Driver

song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Engine Of The Soul

Build me an engine -lady of my dream,
Let it be powered by eternal steam.
May patience be your tool of design,
Planning completeness with a cunning mind.
To drive the pistons of a soul's production,
We need fire with extreme combustion.
This fire from the fervor of powerful prayer
Will create the steam with warmth to spare.
The engine comes to life with a blast and a toot,
And begins to harvest the spiritual fruit.
Run on my soul, with speed aplenty;
For the harvest is rich and the prayers are many.

poem by Albert Price
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