Train
are starting to rumble, wheels beginning to roll There's a short handle shovel of number 9 coal Hey, brakeman are we running on time No, engineer, think we're falling behind
Will we crash on the trestle? Will we on the plain? All I can guess is, we'll be that train No way to stop em? No way to Keep your hand on the and your eye on the rail
Send the word to the sherriff, make the people lie Tell the cook and the coachman, there's no turning Up is the tunnel, just beyond is the bend Pass the word to the preacher, all up to him
Said the preacher's been and he's starting to cry Great 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 doctor's as a stone The fiddle player is playing there's no place home We'll be making the trestle just the hill If we don't make it now boys, we never
When the hit the trestle and the trestle gave way The two trains in midair they say When the dust settled, all they found was a hole And a short shovel full of number 9 coal
A hundred years after and a hundred miles The captain commander looks from the sky And he to his soldiers, "She's pullin 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 through the wreckage like we're coal.