I catch the last bus home with the driver of The Flying Scotsman
We’ve been in Donny for a bevvy –
And it’s brought back heavy memories of back when
Back when our paths first crossed and the future was less uncertain.
I was sat on the wall down at Bowbroom on the Sheffield to Leeds line
An excited small boy caught in rapture and awe as you thundered by
Huge wheels speeding through, the whistle that blew,
the smoke and the sulphur.
So that’s when we first met and what have we done since between us:
Well,you’ve driven trains for the last five decades
whereas I’ve been driven insane
Incessant review of life chances that blew –
tho’ suppose shouldn’t grumble, however..
The signal looms ahead of us to shunt us down the sidelines of history:
Are we in pieces inside or at peace with ourselves now we’re out of the driving seat?
The years have steamed through all those hopes we accrued – here we are on the Last Bus.
What were we then, where are we now – when’s the Last Stop?
Because I’m 447 too.
What were we then, where are we now – when’s the Last Stop?
Because I’m 447 too.
What were we then, where are we now – when’s the Last Stop?
Look at us then – look at us now: when does The Fun start?
I catch the last bus home with the driver of the Flying Scotsman
We’ve been in Donny for a bevvy but I’m too fecking leathered to hoots mon –
What was I then, what am I now – when will my dreams stop?
Because I’m 447 too.
So what can we show – should we die tomorrow
To those in the cheap seats?
