A poem submitted by a local for your perusal. 

The arrogant engineer. 

In the quiet town of Toledo, where morning light is soft and slow,

There lives a train engineer so bold, whose love for horns does clearly show.

At six a.m., when all should sleep, he wakes the town with blasts so deep,

A thunderous call, a seismic wave, that shakes the ground and stirs the brave.

He hides behind the rulebook's lines, toots his horn with grand designs,

While others, kind, with gentle tone, fulfill their duty, leave folks alone.

But not this man, this horn-happy soul, whose joy is found in sonic toll,

He seeks to rouse the sleeping crowd, with blasts so harsh, so sharp, so loud.

The townsfolk lie in restless beds, with pillows clutched around their heads,

They dream of peace, of quiet morns, without the blare of blustery horns.

Should they meet him by the store, they’d wish to settle some old score,

With air horn blasts by produce stands, or justice dealt by furious hands.

Oh, how Toledo longs for rest, a morning calm, a gentle crest,

Where birds can sing and leaves can sway, and peace can greet the break of day.

Until that time, they bear the sound, united by the common ground,

Of shared disdain, of silent plea, for mornings free from horn’s decree.