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In the days of my childhood, my mother would say:

'Let’s go and see Granny for a nice holiday.'

      I'd wait with excitement for the coming event

      And save all my pennies before they were spent.
 

Today lots of children can travel by plane.
For our big adventures, we'd go by steam train.

     We just couldn’t wait for the day we would go.
     But the journey, we knew, would be awfully slow.

At Bristol we changed from one train to another.
Life was frustrating when along came a brother.
     At every new station he'd ask the same question:
     'Are we here?' he would say in mild desperation.

Maiden Newton is where we'd change trains again.

Then to Bridport we'd go on the slow branch-line train.

     We were bored, we were tired, so what did we do?
      We gazed at steep banks where wild primroses grew.

The steam trains would sing as they rolled down the line:

'Diddle-dee-dee Diddle-dee-dee' in such perfect time.

     There was much steam and smoke when we went in a tunnel.
     With smoke blowing in at us straight from the funnel.

By the time we arrived, we were tired of the train,

But were happy to see our grandparents again.

      We’d go to West Bay and we’d play in the sea –

      'The slow journey was worth it,' we all would agree.

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