Train
Tracks are starting to rumble, beginning to roll There's a short handle shovel of number 9 coal Hey, mister brakeman are we running on No, mister engineer, think we're falling
Will we on the trestle? Will we pass on the plain? All I can guess is, be seeing that train No way to stop em? No way to Keep your 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 ahead is the tunnel, just is the bend Pass the word to the preacher, all up to him
the preacher's been drinking and he's starting to cry Saying God Almighty, we're all gonna die All the porters are betting nobody And the Indian is taking a dive
The undertaker is laughing, the cold as a stone The fiddle player is playing there's no place like We'll be the trestle just over the hill If we don't make it now boys, we never
When the trains hit the trestle and the gave way The two trains collided in midair say When the dust finally settled, all they found was a And a short handle shovel full of number 9
A years after and a hundred miles high The captain commander looks from the sky And he says to his soldiers, "She's too strong" "We can her together, but we can't hold her for long"
So we look for a and we search in our souls As we sift through the wreckage like we're coal.