Abandoned rails, forgotten trails, in secret places hide. Ghosts of teh past, are all that last, where thousands used to ride. The lonesome mourns, of distant horns, still haunt the hills and vales, The sweet refrain, of long lost trains, still drift upon the rails. With grace and ease, they chased the breeze, beneath a big blue sky, Through valleys grand, green forest land, and mountain ranges high. Past farm and town, up hill and down, and on like rushing winds, Through tunnels long, on trestles strong, above the creeks and streams, Through night and day, they made their way, atop the iron beams. Like restless winds, that wander in, their spirit still remains, And dreams still flow, from long ago, when travel was by trains. That wonderous thrill, is with me still, of vista domes on high, And sitting there, with wide eyed stare, as scenes went rolling by! But time moves on, those trains are gone, just memories are left, Of journeys grand, across the land, on now abandoned rails.