Wreck Of The Old '97 (Album Version)-Pink Anderson

On the 29th day of one November morning When the cloud was hangin' low 97 pulled out from Washington city Like an arrow shot from the bow 97 was the fastest mail train The South had ever seen And it run from New York by the way of Washington Through Atlanta down in New Orlean (sic) I was standing on the mount one cold and frosty morning Watching the smoke from below That were comin' from the funnel of that black and dusty engine Way down up on that Southern road It was 97, the fastest mail train That run the Southern line And when she pulled in, at Lynchburg, Virginia She was forty-seven minutes behind Steve Brady, he was an engineerah (sic) And a very brave man was he Well, there're many good men have lost their life For the railroad company When they give him his orders at Monroe, Virginia Said, "Steve, you's way behind. This is not 38, but it's old 97, You must put her in Spencer on time." Steve, he smiled when he said to his black and dusty fireman "Throw me in a little more coal And as soon as we cross this White Oak Mountain You can watch my driver roll." It was mighty rough road from Lynchburg to Danville The line on a 3-mile grade It were on that hill where he lost his average You can see what a jump he made Steve come down that hill makin' 90 miles an hour His whistle began to scream Steve was found in the wreck with his hand upon the throttle And scalded to death by the steam Steve, he had a little wife and also two children Who were lyin' at home in bed They received the sad message saying, "Husband and father Now'm is lyin' in North Danville, dead." Now, ladies, you ought to let this be a warning This, from now and on Never speak hard words to your true lovin' husband They may leave you and never return