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In memories of steam, the smoke does clear
A child sits on a bridge of iron,
Beneath dangling legs the train has passed
The rhythmic sound fading, no, crying
Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack
Goes the wheels upon the track
Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack
Goes my daddy with his pack.
To a far off land in a geography book
Went a good friend, a dad to war,
The postman brought the telegram
Lost presumed dead, somewhere called Singapore.
Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack
Goes the wheels upon the track
Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack
Is daddy coming back.
Good news delivered, he´s alive and well
Building a railway track, the message reads,
Somewhere far away called Siam,
And he´s working for the Japanese.
Clickity-Clack, Clickity Clack
Goes the wheels upon the track
Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack
When is daddy coming back.
More news, good news?
Daddy´s brother has come to call,
Talking, sighing, crying, weeping
Sounds reach me from the hall
Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack
Went the wheels upon the track
Clickity-Clack, Clickity-Clack
Why is mummy now wearing black.
Ron Taylor
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