The first train leaves at six p.m.
For the land where the poppies still grow
And mother dear is a brave engineer
And the passenger laughs and coos
So I ask of him to the children he took
On his knees and his kindness so great
Take charge, I pray, of the trains every day
That are leaving at six and at eight

The palace car is my mother's arms
And the whistle is an old sweet strain
The passenger winks, then nods, and then blinks
Then goes to sleep in the train
So I ask of him to the children he took
On his knees and his kindness so great
Take charge, I pray, of the trains every day
That are leaving at six and at eight