The Flying Gang by Andrew Barton Paterson — Read

I served my time, in the days gone by, / In the railway's clash and clang, / And I worked my way to the end, and I / Was the head of the 'Flying Gang'. / 'Twas a chosen band that was kept at hand / In case of an urgent need, / Was it south or north we were started forth, / And away at our utmost speed. / If word reached town that a bridge was down, / The imperious summons rang -- / 'Come out with the pilot engine sharp, / And away with the flying gang.'

Then a piercing scream and a rush of steam / As the engine moved ahead, / With a measured beat by the slum and street / Of the busy town we fled, / By the uplands bright and the homesteads white, / With the rush of the western gale, / And the pilot swayed with the pace we made / As she rocked on the ringing rail. / And the country children clapped their hands / As the engine's echoes rang, / But their elders said: 'There is work ahead / When they send for the flying gang.'