Awesome creepy poetic story – the return revenge of the rusty metal goblins, mining then putting together their own dark ghostly elven train. Here in the Appalachians we have lots of abandoned mines and RR lines, but the ones in the city are probably more dangerous from the criminal types who inhabit them. I fear men more than goblins, LOL. Worthy of a reblog so TY for your bardic modern interpretations of this post-modern age.
Steaming from the tunnel comes a grim dark engine
With a dim flat face cast in iron and unstoppable.
In its clanging pistons reeds and river-weed are caught.
Vivid green algae coats its dreadnought visage.
Cut off from the mainline it is an engine of darkness
Reconstructed piece by piece in the dank and rusty tunnel
From smashed metal parts by subterranean little people
Emerging into daylight in a cloud of black smoke.
At the red and scolding flames stoking up its engine
Is a goblin driver with a maniacal grin
In a tweed flat cap and filthy navy overalls
Reciting unknown stations in a feral tongue.
Its carriages are luminous with elfish women
Who turn in wedding gowns beneath chandeliers
With manicured hands chinking glasses of champagne.
Their smiles are eternal so long as their drinks are full.
This grim dark engine brings a message from the gods,
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