Train
Tracks are to rumble, wheels beginning to roll There's a short handle shovel full of number 9 Hey, brakeman are we running on time 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 stop em? No way to 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 ahead is the tunnel, beyond is the bend Pass the to the preacher, it's all up to him
the preacher's been drinking and he's starting to cry Saying Great God Almighty, we're all die All the porters are nobody survives And the Indian Cowboy is a dive
The undertaker is laughing, the doctor's as a stone The fiddle is playing there's no place like home We'll be making the trestle just the hill If we don't make it now boys, we will
When the hit the trestle and the trestle gave way The two collided in midair they say When the dust settled, all they found was a hole And a short handle shovel of number 9 coal
A hundred years and a hundred miles high The captain commander looks from the sky And he says to his soldiers, "She's too strong" "We can hold her together, but we can't her for long"
So we look for a message and we in our souls As we sift through the like we're shoveling coal.