Train
Tracks are to rumble, wheels beginning to roll There's a short handle shovel of number 9 coal Hey, mister brakeman are we running on No, mister engineer, we're falling behind
we crash on the trestle? Will we pass on the plain? All I can is, we'll be seeing that train No way to em? No way to tell? Keep your hand on the 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 turning Up ahead is the tunnel, beyond is the bend Pass the word to the preacher, all up to him
Said the been drinking and he's starting to cry Saying Great God Almighty, we're all die All the porters are betting nobody And the Cowboy is taking a dive
The is laughing, the doctor's cold as a stone The fiddle player is playing there's no place home We'll be making the just over the hill If we don't make it now boys, we will
When the hit the trestle and the trestle gave way The two trains collided in they say When the finally settled, all they found was a hole And a short handle shovel full of number 9
A hundred years after and a hundred miles The commander looks down from the sky And he says to his soldiers, "She's too strong" "We can hold her together, but we hold her for long"
So we look for a message and we in our souls As we sift the wreckage like we're shoveling coal.