Classic Poem

It was on one July morning
About eight o'clock, they say,
When Thirty-Six left Ashland
And thundered on her way.
McDonney at the throttle,
A man both tried and true
And Bubby Cheap, his fireman,
And a faithful engine crew.
They made good time that morning
Their spirits rolling high.
They had no thought that danger
Was surely lurking nigh.
As Thirty-Six neared Paintsville,
The train began to rock,
A sound of grinding metal
And then a mighty shock.
McDonney did not falter
His trust he did not fail,
And Cheap stood firm and ready
As the engine left the rail.

The story soon was ended;
As on her side she lay,
The scalding steam came hissing;
Someone's life must pay.
For, pinned beneath the engine,
Poor “Bub” he writhed in pain,
McDonney lay there helpless,
His struggles all in vain.

The burning steam came rolling,
But they were forced to lie.
“Bub” Cheap was slowly scalded,
An awful death to die!
But quick, and willing workers
McDonney's life did save,
Poor “Bub” was past all succor,
His precious life he gave.

When tender hands released him,
He was past all mortal pain.
They bore him from the wreckage
Of that ill-fated train.
Long will his friends in service
The story sad relate,
When Thirty-Six turned turtle,
And “Bub” Cheap met his fate.