Tim, he goes out everyday
To Darlington railway
To watch the trains go by
And you may wonder why it's just a waste of time
Does Timmy know the score
Does Timmy know much more
You've considered them the wrong way now
You've considered him the wrong way
This is a club of just wannabe rogues
With anoraks, cords, and their inspector brogues
And Timmy gets up at the dawn every morning
Packs his lunchbox and camera
While he is still yawning, and
He's off to fullfill his
Lifes great facination
He's off to trainspot
At the great railway station
Tim, he goes to platform 3
To see if he can see
The Glasgow train appear
And hopes maybe he'll hear
The shunting horn again
Nostalgia is his friend
Nostalgia is his friend
For them there's nothing much better to see
Than a northern bound train with a serial B3
A fifty year old Brighton 22 ton
Listen, thanks Mr Stephenson, thanks Mr Stephenson
Some are old, some are young, some haven't grown up
Some haven't drunk the romance from their lfies cup
Some of them are lucky
Some of them are lucky
Keeping the magic in life
They are so lucky