7. 10 Songs which are about trains

The Engine Driver -The Decemberists
Night Train - James Brown
Siffler le train - Richard Anthony
Downtown Train -Tom Waits
Rise - Josh Rouse
Whistle of a Distant Train - Ed Harcourt
Midnight Train to Georgia - Brook Benton
Waiting for the Ghost Train - Madness
It takes a lot to laugh, it takes a train to cry - Bob Dylan
Madame George - Van Morrison

I love trains, In particular the East Coast mainline. I love it. It's part of the holiday. Get drunk in the buffet of the East Coast mainline staring out at Bamburgh Castle and Lindisfarne and The Angel of the North and the North Sea. It's awesomeness..
Not all these songs are totally about trains, but trains are pretty key to them. I didn't include Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat from 'Cats'.
Here's something which isn't really about trains, though it's also called
The Engine Driver
It's a sad story about a face I recognised in a hospital waiting room and then a name I recognised in a newpaper a while later.

The engine driver felt something he didn't wish to feel,
a pang of bliss, the pain of loss for life he almost lived
of wild abandon, borders crossed, packets pushing pockets,
waved through to further exploits seen but not believed,
as he drove the train to Brighton and dreamt he drove the line
way down South where music began and lived on in his mind
but he drove up to Victoria, not such a handsome scene
as the glorious high and lonesome of a purer, deeper time.

The engine driver saw some things which made his colleagues blush -
superstars in waiting and shoulders brushed with legends
"Lads, I'll tell you stories of life I dared to live
beyond the boundaries, off the tracks - ever burning engines"
as he held the dead man's handle and let his spirit wander
"but, sure, this is a life and line not to be idly sniffed at
I see some beauty, feel some life that many sure would envy.
I've been through that, I've come to this, brain and soul intact."

The engine driver felt some thing he didn't wish to feel
which took him 'cross from Victoria to nearby London Bridge,
impatient in crowded waiting rooms with aged and infirm
who grimace and grin and condescend to tell him Life's a bitch.
"Life is brutal - what you mean - utterly fucking brutal.
What right have I to this position of sympathy unwanted?
I am almost a rock'n'roll star and I am an engine driver
and I am so many things to come in life I've barely started.

I am the engine driver and I had a million lines in me,
I am more than just three paragraphs across the country's press
I am artist and artisan, I am shaman and servant
I walk out of this colourless room and no one could care less."
The engine driver saw something he couldn't bear to see
He saw his train driving away without him at the wheel.
And is that it, this brutal life where lessons learnt are worthless?
The engine driver felt something he could no longer feel.

It was sad. I hope that comes across.