(THE LITTLE LOCAL)
Of all the trains Osage has known
Our Polly clearly stood alone.
Each mid-day she came into town,
Backed slowly in and settled down
Along the station's eastern side.
For many years we hailed with pride
The friendly local, small & plain,
Our best known, most loved daily train.
When south and north bound trains had gone
Then Polly roused to stretch and yawn.
Though passengers were always few,
Muskogee bound she carried through
Some parcel post with sacks of mail
And shipments sent express by rail,
To be dropped off along the way.
"Just tell me where" she seemed to say.
It was a box-car filled with freight
That first latched on and sealed her fate.
She labored as a mixed-train then,
And brought hitch-hiking freight cars in
Or took some as she pulled away.
But switching duties caused delay
So passengers declined to ride
As Polly withered from inside.
Lake waters came and brought an end
To all the realm of our old friend.
But those who knew her well can see
The ghost of Polly proud and free,
First slowing, pausing inward bound,
Now switching rails to turn around,
Her back-up warning bell rings clear.
In memory our train is here.
Reprint from a 1996 AMEA Publications issue of Hobbie$, Etc.