They are leaving, trains of treasure, without measure, everyday, Trains of corn and coal and ore for the countries far away, Treasure trains and treasure troves, leaving for the ports and coves, Taking loads of gleaming treasure to the countries far away.
When I'm walking home, at midnight, roaming through the city's heart, I can hear the trains uncouple, and the motor's purring start, They pass me. like a film, forty carriages, all told, Whipping round the curve at midnight with their cargo-loads of gold.
Like a film of the wartime, when the victors iced the cake, With the corn and coal and ore of the countries they would take, Like a film, they are leaving, treasure trains, and treasure troves, Richer than the reefs of Midas, and lost Lasseter's last gold.
Tracks of steel I thought weren't used now, tunnels...mushrooms there I thought, From the lights of Darling harbour, and Glebe Island, to the port, Just a smiling driver, standing with his cap at jockey tilt, I knew they carried treasure by the little bit they spilt.
And they pass you through the tunnels where the funnels used to smoke, Round the curving lines of cities where the signals watch them go, Just a wave, a nod, a yahoo, from the guard who throws the brake, And the trains of treasure rumble, like a memory, through the State.
And the shunter's yard exploding in the deepest, darkest night, And the trucks, they are unloading, in a light that's brightest white, And the coupled trains uncouple, and the shunter's glove is shown, And another train of treasure trundles down the iron road.
They are leaving, trains of treasure, without measure, everyday, Trains of corn and coal and ore for the countries far away, Treasure trains and treasure troves, leaving for the ports and coves, Taking loads of gleaming treasure to the countries far away.
Recorded on Trains of Treasure 1985 cassette, 1999 CD