Southern Railway Seniority List (1925)

SOME OF THE DUTIES OF
A ROUND-HOUSE CLERK

We go to work at seven o'clock,
From that till three, it's a peck and a knock,
Copying reports on the engines that run;
For this work has got to be done
Before these engines are called to go
Back on their run in an hour or so.

We make oil tickets for fifty engines or more,
This must be done by eight o'clock or before;
Time-cards to be handled for three hundred men,
This must be done not later than ten;
There's records to keep and letters to write
On the engines that run both day and night.

There's messages to carry and errands to run
To the men in the shop or some other one;
We go these errands of most every kind
While the work in the office is getting behind;
Back to the office, we've got to make haste,
There's a dozen men waiting for oil and waste.

The phone will ring -- it's engineer Mell,
"I wish you would look and see if you can tell
When I'll get out, and can you tell me where --
Will it be Oakdale, or Middlesboro?"
Others who call, here's just a few:
Whitmire, Williams and Kilbrew,
Campbell, Fretwell Johnson and Lord,
Crowell, Crawfored, Kittle and Ward,
Burkhart, Childress, Ireland and Boyd,
Fraley, Sjoblom, Maxey and Lloyd.

Here's some of the others who's call each day,
To see how long they get to stay
On greasy corner before they're called to go
To Chattanooga or Jellico.
Then, it's Booker, Bourne, Hacker and Poe;
The very same thing they're wanting to know,
Davenport, Wade, Riney, Ford and Moore,
Atkins, Butler, Huffman and Dore,
Caldwell, Anthany, Reed and Mumpoer,
These are a few that call every hour;
then it's Watson, Kelley, Hoskins and Payne,
Montgomery, Kirby and Fireman Lane,
Linkous, Plummer, Stansberry and Bell,
Coffman, Seggasser, Rice and Yarnell,
Standifer, Stanfield, Madgett and Pitts,

Shipley, Robbins and W. T. Fitts,
First it's the new phone then it's the old,
Trainum, Baldock or A.Z. Cole,
Ballard, Bracket and engineer Brown,
The tenor singer, Sensabaugh,
The finest in town.
Well I could tell you some more if I had time
But I've got to copy the report on the forty-five nine
But when three o'clock comes, if I'm not through,
We'll just leave the rest for the other clerk to do;
Yes, it's mighty nice to be a round-house clerk
With nothing to do but sit there and work.

- by W. T. Palmer,
Round-house Clerk
Coster Shops.

THE OLD K.C. WORK TRAIN

We started out on Monday morn,
Ahead of twenty-three,
To load some ties and steel for Cap'n
Upon the old K.C.

We had just reached Maloneyville,
And everything had gone fine,
Theo Watson was the Engineer,
The Fireman was Redwine.

"Go ahead!" the captain shouted,
Across new Flat Creek stream,
But as we started to leave that place
We hadn't a pound of steam.

"I can't go yet" Theo Watson said,
"But I'll do my best --
Just tell 'em I've got REDWINE
And they will know the rest."

- Author Unknown

C. A. (Kit) Trainum
(a poem about "The Kitty Lee")

A story I will tell you,
As it was told to me,
Of Kit Trainum and his engine:
And why he named her Kitty Lee.

In this vast and wooded nation
Peopled by the great and small,
We are numbered in God's Creation;
Some to rise and some to fall.

In this grand and massive workshop,
He has given a mind so strong,
For each one to choose their labor;
As they study all day long.

Finally, on the long sought question
I had studdied [sic] night and day,
Came the whistling through the timbers;
As the answer to its prey.

I could see the railroad shining
With its miles of smooth bright steel,
Then I felt the inspiration
To be a railroader -- it did appeal;

So, hour by hour, I begun life's battle
With my eye upon the rail,
There to find many hardships;
But to win, I must not fail.

It was hard but I was master
To the ever beckoning call,
Sometimes through the stormy weather;
But I could not dare to fall.

When, one day God sent a treasure
Which was all the world to me:
It was a wee, wee little girlie;
And I named her Kitty Lee.

I have traveled over the mountains
When the road seemed long to me,
With my hand upon the throttle,
Thinking sweetly of Kitty Lee.

O'er the rustic roads I've thundered,
O'er the glen and o'er the lea;
It was then I named my engine,
For my daughter, Kitty Lee.

When the clouds are just above,
And the Sun shut out from me;
It is then I feel in love,
With my constant Kitty Lee.

I have staged the great temptation
That has often come to me,
In giving up the battle;
I would lose my Kitty Lee.

So onward, onward, bravely fighting
With a strong arm guiding me,
It's then, the road seems shorter
With my engine "Kitty Lee."

Through the meadows and the woodland,
Listening to the birds so free:
I just sail along so smoothly
With my wonderful "Kitty Lee."

"Good bye, Papa," on my leaving,
Always so sweet to me,
And I mount my monster engine;
With the name of Kitty Lee.

In the darkest hour of accident,
When the danger surrounded me,
It was then I looked toward Heaven;
Remembering the words of Kitty Lee.

It's "Kitty Lee," it's "Kitty Lee,"
Known throughout East Tennessee,
In the Home it's "Kitty Lee,"
Oh: how dear both are to me.

When my journey through life is over,
And my days no longer be,
It is then my work it ended
With my faithful "Kitty Lee".

- Author Unknown

THE BUMPING POST

Sometimes when you think you're being abused,
Or that you're being roughly used;
And that your job, without a doubt
Is just the worst this road hands out..
When you fall into such a mood
The one thing that will do most good
Is just to find a job that's worse,
Then you'll forget that grouch to nurse.

The job, I think, I'd hate the most
Would be that of a bumping post
Whose only duty, day by day,
Is just to be there in the way,
Whose only duty is to bar
Some over zealous railroad car
From traveling on and being ditched
When on your track it has been switched.

In winter's cold and summer's heat
It must remain there on it's feet,
Sometimes to be alone all day
When not a soul comes near it's way.
Or else to stand the whole night through,
With not a blessed thing to do:
With not a chance to get away
For just a little holiday.

The only ones it meets are foes,
Who bang it square upon the nose,
When their advances it would check
And thus, perhaps, prevent a wreck.
Now you at least have got some friends,
And that alone, helps make amends
For some short-comings of the job
At which you knock and raise such hob.

So when you think of your hard lot
And kick about the job you're got,
From where you are to things more gay
Where you could do just as you please
And live and in comfort and in ease:
Just kid yourself and make this boast;
At least, I'm not a bumping post.

- Author Unknown

HILLS OF EAST TENNESSEE

Now if you'll pay some attention
To the things I'm going to mention,
Of a city in the South, among the hills;
And I'm sure you will agree
That old Knoxville, Tennessee,
Is the finest in the South, with all her thrills.

Now in Knoxville's sunny clime.
But why should be not be,
There's something doing all the time,
For you're always well and happy and content;
When every one can see,
We're the only City that can boast, 114 per cent.

There's always a scented breeze,
From the blossomed, fruitful trees,
Coming from among these dear old hills,
And everybody knows
Where the mountain breeze blows,
It's no place for aches, or any other ills.

You may talk Los Angeles,
Or Miami's Ocean breeze,
But they haven't got a thing on our old hills,
For the climate's always fine.
And the Sun never fails to Shine,
And we're never burdened down with doctor bills.

Now the Moonlight falls the softest,
And springtime comes the oft'est,
Down among the hills of Mountain Dew,
The sun shines ever brightest,
And life's burdens are the lightest,
And I'm sure this city will appeal to you.

Now what would you really give
Just to get to come and live,
Among the hills of Old East Tennessee,
I'm sure if you'd come down,
To a real city, "Not a Town,"
Old Knoxville would your home forever be.

- By W. T. Palmer

DON'T CROWD

Don't crowd -- the world is big enough
For you as well as me,
The door of art are open wide;
The realm of thought is free.
Of all earth's places you are right,
To choose the best you can;
Provided that you do not try
To crowd some other man.

What matters though you scarce can count
Your pieces of gold ore,
While he can hardly strive to keep
Gaunt famine from his door.
Of willing hands and honest heart
Alone, should man be proud;
Then give him all the room he needs,
And never try to crowd.

Don't crowd the good from out your heart
By fostering all that's bad;
But give to every virtue room,
The best that may be had --
By each day's record, such a one
That you may well be proud,
Give each his right, give each his room,
And never try to crowd.

- By Mrs. J. W. Sensabaugh

SOME DAY WHEN WE ARE GONE

Here is something we want to say
To the men we'll never know,
To the fellows who are going to take our place
When it's time for us to go.
We wonder what kind of men they'll be,
And we wish we could take their hand
And say: we wish you well, dear boys,
In a way they would understand.

We would like to give them the cheering word,
That we've longed at times to hear,
We would like to give them a warm hand-clasp,
When never a friend seemed near.
We have learned our knowledge by very hard work
And we wish we could pass it on
To the fellows who'll come to take our place,
Some day when we are gone.

Will you see all the sad mistakes we've made,
And note all the battles lost;
Will you ever know the tears they caused
Or the heartaches which they cost;
Will they gaze through the failures and
Fruitless toils to the underlying plan
And catch a glimpse of the real intent
And the heart of the vanquished man?

We only hope you may pause some day,
As you toil, as we have wrought,
And gain some strength for your weary tasks,
For the battles which we have fought,
But we've only the task itself to leave,
With the cares for you to face;
And never a cheering word may speak,
To the fellows who'll take our place.

So here's our unfinished work, dear boys,
We leave to you with pride,
We leave the unfinished task to you,
But God knows how we've tried.
We've dreamed our dreams as all men do,
But very few came true.
And our wish today is that all the dreams
May be realized by you.

And we'll meet some day in the great unknown,
Out in the realm of space,
You'll know our clasp as we take your hands
And gaze in your tired face;
Then all our failures will be success,
In the light of the new found dawn;
So we are leaving it all to you, dear boys,
Who'll take our place when we're gone.

- Author Unknown