Train
Tracks are starting to rumble, beginning to roll There's a short handle full of number 9 coal Hey, mister brakeman are we running on No, mister engineer, think falling behind
Will we crash on the trestle? we pass on the plain? All I can guess is, we'll be seeing that No way to em? No way to tell? Keep your hand on the and your eye on the rail
Send the to the sherriff, make the people lie down Tell the cook and the coachman, there's no round Up is the tunnel, just beyond is the bend the word to the preacher, it's all up to him
Said the been drinking and he's starting to cry Saying Great God Almighty, all gonna die All the porters are nobody survives And the Indian Cowboy is a dive
The undertaker is laughing, the doctor's cold as a The fiddle player is playing there's no like home We'll be making the trestle over the hill If we don't it now boys, we never will
When the trains hit the and the trestle gave way The two trains collided in they say When the dust finally settled, all they was a hole And a short handle shovel full of number 9
A hundred years after and a hundred high The captain commander looks from the sky And he to his soldiers, "She's pullin too strong" "We can hold her together, but we can't her for long"
So we look for a message and we search in our As we sift through the like we're shoveling coal.