Susan Lawrence
Lost Ties
Susan Lawrence
Gone are the railroads, our link to the past,
Here come the truckloads, they're moving so fast;
Our children must ride on a boat or a plane,
To go to the mainland just to see a train.
No leisurely walks on the tracks before bed,
The tracks that we see will be tracks in our heads;
As we look at the scars on the face of our land,
Left by the train tracks that once crossed Newfoundland.
We wonder just where the old Bullet went,
And think of the waste and the sweat that was spent;
For the back breaking labour of men laid to rest,
They stripped all the tracks in the name of progress.
And progress is pushing us on right ahead,
But who'll hold the key to the past when we're dead?
They're stripping away the dear and the old,
How long before all of our heritage is sold?
Gone are the railroads, our link to the past,
And the back breaking labour of men laid to rest;
They're stripping the ties from the railway bed,
Who'll hold the key to the past when we're dead?
Yes, who'll hold the key to the past when we're dead?
Susan Lawrence
Gone are the railroads, our link to the past,
Here come the truckloads, they're moving so fast;
Our children must ride on a boat or a plane,
To go to the mainland just to see a train.
No leisurely walks on the tracks before bed,
The tracks that we see will be tracks in our heads;
As we look at the scars on the face of our land,
Left by the train tracks that once crossed Newfoundland.
We wonder just where the old Bullet went,
And think of the waste and the sweat that was spent;
For the back breaking labour of men laid to rest,
They stripped all the tracks in the name of progress.
And progress is pushing us on right ahead,
But who'll hold the key to the past when we're dead?
They're stripping away the dear and the old,
How long before all of our heritage is sold?
Gone are the railroads, our link to the past,
And the back breaking labour of men laid to rest;
They're stripping the ties from the railway bed,
Who'll hold the key to the past when we're dead?
Yes, who'll hold the key to the past when we're dead?