He dressed himself in mighty haste,
          And out into the steading raced,
                    Through garden, barn, round the byre,
          (One would think there's a fire),
             At last he stopped, his face agrin,
          He stood before his old engine.

                 He shouted "Wink, come over here!"
          (Wink, you see, is his engineer)
             "We'll light her up and get her hot,
                And feed her coal, she'll need a lot".

          They opened up the giant's jaw,
             And coal was shovelled in galore,
                  First one bag, two, three - then four,
                The muckle brute still wanted more.

                  They treated her with great affection,
                The great big hunk of iron erection,
                   They shovelled coal till Willie cursed,
             "Jinks, I hope she doesn't burst!"

                  At last well filled, she loudly belched,
                     Inside her steam and water squelched,
                    She stood there like a mighty charger,
        Not so fleet and a little larger.

                  The village "Big Wigs" came in force,
                                          Willie Webster, the Chemist and a bloke from Corse,
                  They gathered there in quite an army,
                               Although they thought the scheme was barmy.

                 With rush and dash and a little fluster,
              The engine crew at last did muster,
           Willie entered the cab with pride,
        And so began the famous ride.

          But wait, she had not yet begun,
         The saucy brute refused to run,
                   They coaxed her with a bit more coal,
          And hoped to get her in control.
              They tried and tried, but all in vain,
              She didn't want to leave her hame.

  Willie now in great despair,
           Looked upon the audience there,
          A thought into his head did rush,
                    "Come on,you chaps, begin and push!"

                           The Chemist doffed his wide-brimmed hat,
                    In case that it should get squashed flat,
              Willie Webster stood and moaned,
                         And Jimmie Shepherd wept and groaned,
                  "Come on now " Willie said with glee,
                  "Just shove and leave the rest to me".

                            They toiled and shoved past Strathie's brae,
                    Then she started in her old sweet way,
                    At a wonderous fifteen miles per hour,
   So began the famous tour.

                      The first stop that they made was Perth,
                          Where Willie went and quenched his thirst,
           He also had to buy some boots,
                     For in the excitement, checking routes,
             He'd come away in carpet shoes,
              Hardly the thing for such a cruise!

                   With all things oiled and engine boiled,
              They crawled towards the border,
                     So far the scheme had gone quite well,
With everything in order. 

                   They Scots folk they had seen so far, 
     Had heard of Willie's fame, 
                         They lined the way with shout and cheer, 
And nearly went insane, 
            But the people in the Lowlands, 
      Heard not of Willie's caper, 
           There had not even been a line, 
In any local paper.        

            They came upon a border town, 
       That must have been alerted, 
       For not a body was in sight, 
               The place seemed quite deserted, 
                            The doors all locked and windows barred, 
                               They thought the thing had come from Mars, 
                   And every parent, son and daughter, 
                 Thought they'd seen a flying saucer. 

 At last across the border, 
   On English soil they stood, 
                 And Willie turned to Wink and said, 
   "Oh jingo, I just feel good! 
          So let her go with all her might, 
We haven't time to dally, 
                     In Chester-le-Street we soon must be, 
              For the ald Steam Engines Rally". 

                Newcastle was their first big town, 
And a very busy place, 
         And sad to say the old engine, 
       Could hardly keep her pace, 
              The traffic stuck for miles behind, 
    The bobbies stood aghast, 
 As vehicles thick as flies, 
Blew horns at full blast. 

                  Newcastle folks received them well, 
                               They lined the roads and cheered like - well! 
                          And one bright cheeky, yelling youngster, 
                  "Look it's the Loch Ness Monster!" 
                  This Willie heard and shouted back, 
                "Get lost you cheeky sassenach!!" 

                         To Gateshead now they made their way, 
                 The rain it poured - a dreadful day, 
        But Willie, spirits still as high, 
                  Though rivers ran right down his tie, 
                           And though his seat was growing damper, 
                         He said "The weather us won't hamper". 

         The little giant was quite upset,
             With all her workings getting wet, 
                       She spat and sizzled though Gateshead, 
         Like a pan that's frying bread, 
                But now their object near at hand, 
             They travelled on to Sunderland. 

               At Sunderland they made a stand, 
                  And Willie said he'd stand his hand, 
      So off they went into a pub, 
            To have a drink and bit of grub, 
               Now Willie, a hard drinking man, 
       Cared not for English liquor, 
              Eight bottles and a half he drank, 
     And not an eye did flicker. 

               The next day was the great event, 
                  And to the meeting place they went, 
                The rain still poured a steady beat, 
                   As they arrived at Chester-le-Street. 

               They gathered there in great array, 
                   Heaps of junk that had had their day, 
          Engines of all shapes and sizes, 
    All expecting to win prizes. 

             Some were ancient some just old, 
                      Some were rusty some shone like gold, 
                       But Willie's giant was beyond compare, 
             With all the others standing there. 

                  Now Willie played a right old game, 
          He hired himself a fancy dame, 
                A gorgeous blonde - a lovely dish, 
                Thirty eight, twenty-four, forty-six, 
             But do you think this a disgrace, 
                        She was only driving in the Ladies race. 

                    The rain came down now all it could, 
               The show-field was a sea of mud, 
                The judges and Show Committee, 
           Swam around the field a bittie, 
                          Then back they came like drowning rats, 
                       And said "The race is cancelled chaps". 

                On this tragic note we end our tale, 
                As Willie starts his homeward trail, 
              Lets hope he tries the stunt again, 
       With lots of sun and little rain.