Not young nor old but crabbed and cold,
With hair fast turning gray,
He's watched the sheets and made the meet
For many a troubled day.
His job is to know how fast they'll go
And where they will be stopping,
To read the mind ahead and behind
And know why time they're dropping.
He must explain why plans go lame,
And why the speed was struck.
He will catch hell, but truth must tell
He cannot pass the buck.
Day in, day out, he goes without
His exercise and lunches.
He is forlorn and a gambler born,
Who plays his many hunches.

This man don't care if train crews swear,
Because they throw some switches.
He has grown tough doing his own stuff
To keep them from the ditches.
But off the job with the rest of the mob
He's one real lively player.
Then life's worthwhile, there's time to smile,
For the crabby train delayer.