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Marcus' Model Railway Journey

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Midland Blue Pullman

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Steam and the Scrapman

Now folk, I’ll relate what occurred down in Wales,
When steam were dismissed from the length of the rails;
When Britain said, “Diesel’s the future, old bean,”
And steam were declared a historical scene.
Two hundred and ninety-seven in line
Were marched off to Barry by order benign
— “Well scrap the lot sharpish!” said someone in town,
Wi’ pen full of ink and a bureaucrat’s frown.
They’d thundered through valleys wi’ clatter and cheer,
Wi’ smoke thick as gravy and whistles to hear;
They’d hauled half the nation through wartime and peace,
Now stood by the seaside awaiting decease.

But Dai ran the yard wi’ a practical eye,
And wagons were easier — simpler to fry;
No pistons nor motion nor copper to chase,
Just snip ’em and stack ’em and clear up the place.
So wagons went first — and while wagons were led,
The locomotives stayed stubbornly not-dead.
Weeks turned into months, and months into years,
Wi’ rain in their boilers and rust in their gears.
Then enthusiasts — daft but determined and keen
— Said, “That one’s not scrap — that’s a proper machine!”

They rattled tins loudly and emptied their purse,
Which’s more than most pessimists care to think.
And two hundred thirteen were hauled from the brink,
Which’s more than most pessimists care to think;
So if tha rides steam on a preserved line now,
There’s Barry in there somewhere — anyhow.
Till last one rolled out in nineteen-ninety,
A Prairie tank engine — still looking quite jaunty;
“End of an era!” the headlines did scream.
“Aye,” said a chap, “But not end of steam.”

Barry scrapyard aka the 'Train Graveyard'​

The 'train graveyard' in the 1970s

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