Wreck of the Old 97

As I stood on the mountain one cold frosty morning Just watching the smoke from below It was twirling from an old lonesome smokestack Way down on the Southern Road Well, he picked up his orders in Monroe, Virginia Sayin, "Steve, you're way behind time This is not 38, but it's old 97 Gonna put her into Spencer on time" Then he turned and he said to his black, greasy fireman "Shovel in a little more coal And when we reach that old White Oak Mountain You can watch old 97 roll" Now, it's a mighty rough road from Lynchburg to Danville And she's lyin' on a three-mile grade It was on that stretch that he lost his airbrakes You can see what a jump he made He was comin' down that grade makin' ninety miles an hour When his whistle broke into a scream And they found him in a wreck with his hand on the throttle He was scalded to death by the steam Well, the news it was a travelin' o'er the telegraph wires This is what it said Said that brave engineer from Monroe, Virginia Is a lyin' in that graveyard dead So I'm tellin' you my fair ladies take warning From this time on and learn Never speak harsh words to your true-lovin' husband He may leave you to never return