THE GALLANT TWAIN.
ADAPTED. 
(Written in commemoration of Walter Peart and Henry Dean, who sacrificed their lives in the discharge of their duty at Acton, July 18th, 1898.) [Note 581.1]
 
See the train, see the train,
See the train flying,
Madly she dashes on,
With the wind vieing.
This is the up express
Bound for the City
hundreds this day will bless—
Thousands will pity.

Praise we the Light Brigade, [Note 581.2]
As not a whit dismayed
Boldly the charge they made
At Balaclava.
Praise we the nobler two,
Driver and fireman, who
Facing the jaws of death,
Guided the up express,
Thro' fire and lava.

Ashes to right of them,
Ashes to left of them,
Ashes surrounding them,
Ashes descending.
Broken the boiler shell,
Out poured the fires of hell,
Out poured the flames that fell;
Nobly they rode and well,
Grim death attending

On dashed the city train,
Striving with might and main,
Striving to speed maintain,
E'en though the driver knew
Someone had blundered.
Sudden the crash was heard—
Driver nor fireman stirred—
Nor breathed to each a word,
Though they both wondered
Swift was the steam-valve shut,
Swift back the levers put,
Meanwhile the broken rod
Volley'd and thundered.

Ashes to right of them,
Ashes to left of them,
Ashes upon them,
Scalding and burning.
E'en though each falling stroke,
Engulphed with fire and smoke,
At each new turning.
Strove they with might and main,
Strove they to stop the train,
For their charge yearning

When can their glory fade,
O the bold stand they made,
Duty's, call greeting.
"Thank God, we've stopped the train,"
Thus spake the noble twain,
Death bravely meeting.