Casey Jones

Come all you rounders for I want you to hear
 The story told of a brave engineer;
Casey Jones was the rounder's name
On a heavy six-wheeler he rode to fame.

Caller called Jones about half past four,
 Jones kissed his wife at the station door,
 Climbed into the cab with the orders in his hand,
 Says, "This is my trip to the promised land."

Through South Memphis yards on the fly,
He heard the fireman say, "You've got a white eye."
 All the switchmen knew by the engine's moans,
 That the hogger at the throttle was Casey Jones.

Fireman says, "Casey, you're runnin' too fast,
 You run the block signal the last station you passed."
 Jones says, "Yes, I think we can make it, though,
 For she steams much better than ever I know."

Jones says, "Fireman, don't you fret,
Keep knockin' at the firedoor, don't give up yet;
 I'm goin' to run her till she leaves the rail
 Or make it on time with the southbound mail."

Around the curve and a-down the dump,
Two locomotives were a-bound to burpp,
 Fireman hollered, "Jones, it's just ahead,
We might jump and make it but we'll all be dead."

'Twas around this curve he saw the passenger train,
 Something happened in Casey's brain;
Fireman jumped off, but Jones stayed on,
 He's a good engineer but he's dead and gone.

Poor Casey Jones was always all right,
 He stuck to his post both day and night;
They loved to hear the whistle of old Number Three
As he came into Memphis on the old K.C.

Headaches and Heartaches and all kinds of pain
 Are not apart from a railroad train;
 Tales that are earnest, noble and gran'
 Belong to the life of a railroad man.