Stuck in a Siding.

I hear the whistle blowing    
it's two-thirty a.m.    
I should be sleeping    
but I'm wide awake again,    
hearing some ol' Puffing Billy    
scream my dream awake,    
as I slip back into slumber    
I'm back to ten-year of age.    
   
When the fire-box would glowing    
pumping heartbeats into steam    
red-hot cinders streaming    
to the pound of great steel wheels,    
click click clacking rumble,    
going to where I would be gone    
but I'm stuck in bed and dreaming,    
a ten-year old at home.    
   
I thought when I'd all grown  
I sure would shovel coal,    
and pull that big brass lever    
to  make that whistle moan,    
nails cracked and broken    
face streaked with grime,    
steaming to Hoboken,    
to make the Bremen line.    
 
But I must've missed the station    
stopped at some crazy halt    
so I guess I'll stay on dreaming    
with the old folks, at home...