Train
Tracks are starting to rumble, beginning to roll There's a handle shovel full of number 9 coal Hey, mister are we running on time No, mister engineer, think falling behind
Will we crash on the trestle? Will we pass on the All I can guess is, we'll be seeing that No way to em? No way to tell? Keep hand on the throttle and your eye on the rail
the word 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 preacher's been drinking and starting to cry Great God Almighty, we're all gonna die All the porters are betting survives And the Indian Cowboy is taking a
The undertaker is laughing, the cold as a stone The fiddle player is playing there's no place home We'll be the trestle just over the hill If we don't it now boys, we never 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 full of 9 coal
A hundred after and a hundred miles high The commander looks down from the sky And he to his soldiers, "She's pullin too strong" "We can her together, but we can't hold her for long"
So we look for a message and we in our souls As we sift through the wreckage like we're coal.