A Poem Of Complaint: The Incredible Curse Of The Freight Train

I am always cheerfully up to something artistic or smart,
only for a train to toot the horn and ruin my little art.

I lived most of my life next to train tracks,
and the loud noise the horn makes, sucks.

More than train tracks, the train crossings are awful too,
in America they ring a constant bell to annoy you.

What a wretched thing a train operator is,
as when the horn goes off, the fault is all his.

I always take the philosophical view,
always considering the crew.

Being started countless times by their stupid horn,
I view them with nothing but scorn.

Each time I hear that frightful noise,
I see that pushing buttons is something that-ugly-man enjoys.

He pushes the horn button multiple times in his incompetence,
and I call it "horn incontinence".

I do feel bad that he works nights far away from home,
tooting horn to his irritable bowel syndrome.

But I know his family needs a break,
for their own sake.

Now, I will admit, it was my destiny to drive trains,
crisscrossing all the great plains.

While everyone wanted to become an attorney,
I just wanted to go on a fancy train journey.

There is great wisdom in exploration,
out lives should not be lived in resignation.

Rather than trains I ended up lifting weights,
all the way out in Unites States.

And I don't want to ride trains anymore,
I prefer a nice and quiet bookstore.

Even though I don't want to RIDE the train,
I still wish to complain.

Especially about that damn horn,
to which I seem to have been born.

Let us never forget that the train man could use the horn just one time,
instead he plays the song of his people - which should be a crime.

So next time you are stuck waiting for a train and hear the horn afar,
honk back at him from own your car.