"Twas Two Days After Christmas
'Twas two days after Christmas, when all through California,
The weather was sucking, it was colder than Georgia;
Amtrak was running their Surfliners with care,
In hopes that more passengers soon would be there;
The children were nestled in their leg rest coach like beds,
While visions of Superliners danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long wait by the track,
When out along the main line there arose such a clatter,
I sprang with my camera to see what was the matter.
Away up the hill I flew like a flash,
and tore off the lens cap running a 50-yard dash.
The clouds on the surf had started to grow.
Their was no lustre of mid-day for Amtrak below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a new SC-44, I didn’t know they reined here!
With a little old engineer, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment this train was pretty slick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Siemens! now, Horizon! now, Amfleet (needs fixin)!
On into San Clemente, once home of Richard Nixon!
So up to the station the coursers they flew,
With the train full of passengers, and step stools too.
And then, in a twinkling, the conductor found a group,
Asking each of those boarding for ticketing proof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
I checked out the new unit heading the southbound.
It was dressed all in gray, from the trucks to the roof,
unlike most Amtrak diesels it wasn’t tarnished with soot;
A bundle of coaches was flung on its back,
it looked like any Surfliner that rides this track.
The ditch lights—how they twinkled! The headlights how merry! The safety lights like roses, the nose kind of scary!
Its droll little air intakes were drawn up like a bow
It really didn’t look like they could keep out the snow;
The brakeshoes held tight on the wheels underneath,
while the smoke from the HEP encircled it like a wreath;
It had a broad side and the smoke was kind of smelly,
And I shook when I shot it since I used a big tele.
It was streamlined not plump, as it sat by itself,
And I laughed at the fans who hate it, in spite of myself;
A wink of its ditch lights as it pointed ahead,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
The conductor spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And checked all the tickets, this guy was no jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up into the vestibule he rose;
He sprang into the coaches, the SC-44 gave a whistle,
And away the train flew like the old mud missiles,
I heard the train go, ere it moved out of sight,
It was on to Oceanside, with a train that looked right!
"Twas Two Days After Christmas
'Twas two days after Christmas, when all through California,
The weather was sucking, it was colder than Georgia;
Amtrak was running their Surfliners with care,
In hopes that more passengers soon would be there;
The children were nestled in their leg rest coach like beds,
While visions of Superliners danced in their heads;
And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long wait by the track,
When out along the main line there arose such a clatter,
I sprang with my camera to see what was the matter.
Away up the hill I flew like a flash,
and tore off the lens cap running a 50-yard dash.
The clouds on the surf had started to grow.
Their was no lustre of mid-day for Amtrak below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a new SC-44, I didn’t know they reined here!
With a little old engineer, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment this train was pretty slick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Siemens! now, Horizon! now, Amfleet (needs fixin)!
On into San Clemente, once home of Richard Nixon!
So up to the station the coursers they flew,
With the train full of passengers, and step stools too.
And then, in a twinkling, the conductor found a group,
Asking each of those boarding for ticketing proof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
I checked out the new unit heading the southbound.
It was dressed all in gray, from the trucks to the roof,
unlike most Amtrak diesels it wasn’t tarnished with soot;
A bundle of coaches was flung on its back,
it looked like any Surfliner that rides this track.
The ditch lights—how they twinkled! The headlights how merry! The safety lights like roses, the nose kind of scary!
Its droll little air intakes were drawn up like a bow
It really didn’t look like they could keep out the snow;
The brakeshoes held tight on the wheels underneath,
while the smoke from the HEP encircled it like a wreath;
It had a broad side and the smoke was kind of smelly,
And I shook when I shot it since I used a big tele.
It was streamlined not plump, as it sat by itself,
And I laughed at the fans who hate it, in spite of myself;
A wink of its ditch lights as it pointed ahead,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
The conductor spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And checked all the tickets, this guy was no jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up into the vestibule he rose;
He sprang into the coaches, the SC-44 gave a whistle,
And away the train flew like the old mud missiles,
I heard the train go, ere it moved out of sight,
It was on to Oceanside, with a train that looked right!