The engine breathes a cloud of white,
Into the cold and early light.
The heavy wheels begin to turn,
While coal and fire brightly burn.
A journey through the iron age,
Upon a dark and steel-bound stage.
The whistle blows a lonely cry,
Beneath the heavy, soot-filled sky.
Liam is a classic storyteller with a profound knack for nostalgic rhymes and lyrical ballads. His work often explores folklore, family history, and the comforting warmth of a local pub on a fiercely cold and...
The rolling hills of emerald green,The most serene I’ve ever seen.The sheep are grazing on the slope,A portrait...
The fiddle plays a lively tune,Beneath the setting of the moon.The pints are poured, the foam is high,While...