The Rail Worker's Song

There once was a man who worked on a railway,

In a land of endless winter and dreary days.

He toiled in the cold, his hands rough and raw,

Beneath the glare of the sun and the light of the stars.

He was a simple man, with a simple life,

But his mind was filled with dreams and strife.

For he lived in a world that was hard and cruel,

Where the strong preyed on the weak, and the poor were ruled.

Yet he persevered, day after day,

Laying the tracks for trains to make their way.

He had a job to do, and he did it well,

With a strength and a spirit that no one could quell.

So he worked on the railway, in rain and in shine,

Never complaining, never drawing a line.

For he knew that his work was a noble cause,

Bringing people together, bridging distant shores.

And though he was but a small cog in the wheel,

He knew that he played a vital role,

In the great, grand scheme of things,

For he was the one who kept the trains rolling