Ale delikatnie przypominam, że tu się wspomina lokomotywy, koleje żelazne w ogólności, ewentualnie pana Gutenberga.

Sushi było tylko ozdobnikiem, nie mówiąc o Blackberry.

W celu przywrócenia Państwa uwagi na właściwe tory długa y łzawa historia maszynisty lokomotywy nr 143 w wykonaniu uroczej oldskulowej parki.

G C G C Dm G Dm G Dm G C

G C G
Along came the F.F.V., the swiftest on the line,
G A7 D7
Running down the C&O road, just twenty minutes behind.
G C G
Running into Souville, headquarters on the line,
C G D7 G
Receiving their strict orders from the station right behind.

Georgie’s mother came to him, a bucket on her arm.
Saying to her darling son, “Be careful how you run,
Many a man that’s lost his life trying to make lost time,
And if you run your engine right, you’ll get there right on time.”

Up the tracks she darted against a rock she crashed.
Upside down the engine turned and Georgie’s head was smashed.
His head against the firebox door and the flames were rolling high.
“I’m glad I was born for an engineer on the C. & O. Road to die.”

The doctor said to Georgie, “My darling boy be still.
Your life may yet be saved, if it is God’s precious will.”
“Oh no,” said George, “that will not do, I want to die so free.
I want to die for the engine I love: One Hundred and Forty-Three.”

The doctor said to Georgie, “Your life cannot be saved.
Murdered on a railway and laid in a lonesome grave.”
His face was covered up with blood, his eyes they could not see.
And the very last words poor Georgie said were,
“Nearer, my God, to Thee.”

Wiadomość optymistyczna jest taka, że palacz tejże 143 podobno się uratował (za wikipedią)...