There is something longingly mystical about the train whistle as the locomotive glides into the station. A station usually set outside of anywhere Canada. Railway personnel still stand by each train car door to help embark. There is some shouting of car numbers. The engine airbrakes hiss in the cool November air. Someone still walks down the aisle of the car to look at your ticket and the aroma of coffee being served is quite irresistible. It all feels very Canadian, and though I am not sure I would want to do this all from coast to coast, the few hours this weekend were quite lovely.
And when the young man's fancy was turning to the spring
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring
Their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day
And many a fortune lost and won and many a debt to pay
For they looked in the future and what did they see
They saw an iron road running from the sea to the sea
Bringing the goods to a young growing land
All up from the seaports and into their hands