Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 367 & Part 368

 

Today is Tuesday, the 24th of June 2025.

Mr. Twenty-Five, one very little penguin addressed Twenty-Five, our little tawny owl. It is too hot, Mr. Twenty-Five.

What do you expect, you ice-bird, you? asked one of the little red birds. It is summer now and summer brings heat.

Cats are bringing heat, mumbled all eighteen bats in a chorus. Beware the cats! Cats are hell!

Hell is other people, said Jean-Paul Sartre, said Twenty-Five, the little tawny owl.

And so twenty-four smiling cats with heart-eyes joined the sixteen cats with tears of joy, the eight grinning cats with smiling eyes, the thirty-one grinning cats, the twenty-three spiders, the fifteen scorpions, the seven ladybugs, the twenty-nine bees, the twenty-one ants, the thirty crickets, the twenty-two mosquitos, the fourteen caterpillars, the six snails, the twenty six butterflies, the eighteen bats, the ten more chicks, the two chicks, the twenty-five chicks, the seventeen penguins, the nine little red birds and the one little tawny owl…

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"Bromford"

Home is where your heart is forever yearning 
Hope bears the scars you're forever learning 
It's been years since you went away 
Not so far away 
You disappeared like my voice 
Amongst the crashing waves 

I call out and call out 
The gaslight is fading 
Where are you now? 
The light's out 
Give me something I can dream about 

'Cause come the middle of the night 
When the restless go away 
There's never a goodbye 
Only heartache when you wake 
And I don't know 
How much more to take 
I've never missed you more 
Please come home 
Home, Bromford 

Please write and tell us how you are 

Are you happy? 
Steal your eyes for a second, 
Be a part of my dying memory 
Be a sigh for a mother's failing heart 
Make a wish come true 
Be a sight for sore eyes 

Still I call out and call out 
The gaslight is fading 
Where are you now? 
The light's out 
Give me something I can dream about 

'Cause come the middle of the night 
When the restless go away 
There's never a goodbye 
Only heartache when you wake 
And I don't know 
How much more to take 
I've never missed you more 
So glad you're home 
Home, Bromford

"The Ghost of Bromford"

Well, she comes out at night with the cold winds of December
And when it's quiet you hear her engines cry
She blows smoke at her wheels and her gears pound the steel
As they carry her on down the line

Now I'm sure that you've heard stories, as most of us have
In the lunch counter and barber shop queues
She's the Ghost of Bromford and from here up to Richmond
She runs by the light of the moon

Well a few years back on the old Suffolk Road
Where it crosses the abandoned rail line
My Grandpa claimed that he'd seen a freight train
And it wasn't no sleek streamline

She was cold black and steel and she screamed as she cut
Her way clear of the pines
But he swears to this day he can feel the earth shake
And smell her smoke when the wind's just right

Ah, but back in her day she was a real working horse
Haulin' coal out for old man Ward
She was tied up in ribbons and set out of Richmond
Haulin' soldiers during the war

Ah, but some say she wrecked and she rides these rails
Hopin' one day that she'll get it right
Others say she roams out picking up lost souls
And carryin' 'em down to Carolina

So if you're ever out on the old Suffolk Road
And see this strangest of sights
She's the Ghost of Bromford bound from Raleigh up to Richmond
And you'd best stay out of her line
Yeah you'd best stay out of her line