[Intro] [staccato strings, rhythmic woodblock, metallic train-like pulse] [Verse 1] [baritone male narration] This is the night mail crossing the border Bringing the check and the postal order Letters for the rich, letters for the poor The shop at the corner and the girl next door Pulling up Beattock, a steady climb The gradients against her, but she's on time [flute enters] [Verse 2] [strings intensify, brass swells] Past cotton grass and moorland boulder Shoveling white steam over her shoulder Snorting noisily as she passes Silent miles of wind-bent grasses Birds turn their heads as she approaches Stare from the bushes at her blank-faced coaches Sheepdogs cannot turn her course They slumber on with paws across In the farm she passes no one wakes But a jug in a bedroom gently shakes [orchestral crescendo] [Bridge] [tempo remains steady, strings transition to a more melodic, flowing pattern] [Verse 3] Dawn freshens, the climb is done Down towards Glasgow she descends Towards the steam tugs yelping down the glade of cranes Towards the fields of apparatus, the furnaces Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen All Scotland waits for her [full brass fanfare] [orchestral finale with sustained strings and brass]
