Oct 2016
On the banks of the Sentinel River
A man locals knew as ‘The Boss’
Worked the controls of the drawbridge
Directing the through-trains across
The boss man was cheerful and helpful
Always whistling or singing a song
His gaze was both twinkling and piercing
His handshake both friendly and strong
His daily routine at the river
Saw the bridge back and forth from the edge
So the ships could pass freely beside it
As he watched from his post on the ledge
And then when a train neared the river
He remotely connected the link
Exact in the duties he carried
Of protecting the train from the drink
On the banks of the Sentinel River
A man locals knew as ‘The Boss’
Worked the controls of the drawbridge
Directing the through-trains across
The boss man was cheerful and helpful
Always whistling or singing a song
His gaze was both twinkling and piercing
His handshake both friendly and strong
His daily routine at the river
Saw the bridge back and forth from the edge
So the ships could pass freely beside it
As he watched from his post on the ledge
And then when a train neared the river
He remotely connected the link
Exact in the duties he carried
Of protecting the train from the drink
He held onto that train-saving lever
With a ruthless and desperate hold
‘Father?’ he heard from the drawbridge
The blood in his veins running cold
‘Junior?’ he yelled through the downpour
‘You must run son, like never before!’
But the warning he shouted to save him
Was drowned out by the oncoming roar
To go rescue his son on the drawbridge
Would never leave time to get back
To re-lock in the hand-governed lever
To save those in the train on the track
But to barter a life of perfection
In exchange for this train full of fools
Was too much to expect of a father
It was heartless and mean; it was cruel!
But a train full of people would perish
If he opted the life of his son
Two hundred and forty-nine humans
As compared to the loss of just one!
He could picture his son by the window
Looking out at the lights of the train
May I go to the bridge to meet Father?
To walk him back home, in the rain.
His firstborn was gentle and thoughtful
Compliant no matter the task
Most eager and willing to please him
Obeying whatever was asked
He took one last second to ponder
But his conscience, it already knew
He held tight to that hand-governed lever
And let the Northwestern roll through
Not a soul on the train saw his body
As it fell to its watery grave
Not a soul on the train heard his father
Mourn the son that he’d wanted to save
If you can imagine this father
Then think of our Father above
And we fools here on earth that He rescued
Done all in the name of His love!
A man locals knew as ‘The Boss’
Worked the controls of the drawbridge
Directing the through-trains across
The boss man was cheerful and helpful
Always whistling or singing a song
His gaze was both twinkling and piercing
His handshake both friendly and strong
His daily routine at the river
Saw the bridge back and forth from the edge
So the ships could pass freely beside it
As he watched from his post on the ledge
And then when a train neared the river
He remotely connected the link
Exact in the duties he carried
Of protecting the train from the drink
On the banks of the Sentinel River
A man locals knew as ‘The Boss’
Worked the controls of the drawbridge
Directing the through-trains across
The boss man was cheerful and helpful
Always whistling or singing a song
His gaze was both twinkling and piercing
His handshake both friendly and strong
His daily routine at the river
Saw the bridge back and forth from the edge
So the ships could pass freely beside it
As he watched from his post on the ledge
And then when a train neared the river
He remotely connected the link
Exact in the duties he carried
Of protecting the train from the drink
He held onto that train-saving lever
With a ruthless and desperate hold
‘Father?’ he heard from the drawbridge
The blood in his veins running cold
‘Junior?’ he yelled through the downpour
‘You must run son, like never before!’
But the warning he shouted to save him
Was drowned out by the oncoming roar
To go rescue his son on the drawbridge
Would never leave time to get back
To re-lock in the hand-governed lever
To save those in the train on the track
But to barter a life of perfection
In exchange for this train full of fools
Was too much to expect of a father
It was heartless and mean; it was cruel!
But a train full of people would perish
If he opted the life of his son
Two hundred and forty-nine humans
As compared to the loss of just one!
He could picture his son by the window
Looking out at the lights of the train
May I go to the bridge to meet Father?
To walk him back home, in the rain.
His firstborn was gentle and thoughtful
Compliant no matter the task
Most eager and willing to please him
Obeying whatever was asked
He took one last second to ponder
But his conscience, it already knew
He held tight to that hand-governed lever
And let the Northwestern roll through
Not a soul on the train saw his body
As it fell to its watery grave
Not a soul on the train heard his father
Mourn the son that he’d wanted to save
If you can imagine this father
Then think of our Father above
And we fools here on earth that He rescued
Done all in the name of His love!
