passing shacks

the color of the train

rolling north along the old main line

made me think of a hurricane

drinking another bottle of cowboy wine

followed by a third and a steady long hard pull

up the nearest steepest hill

bouncing along without a spill

looking out of my window

hoping for a big time show

rounding the curve and down the tracks

passing shacks

there's memories on the wide front porch

of battle cries and a fading torch

and i hear bluegrass and see a lively dance

feet stomping like in a sacred trance 

and a village square and an cheap saloon

i started thinking like a loud typhoon

howling like a lonely man under a harvest moon

rolling north along the old main line

i continued drinking more cowboy wine

followed by a third and a steady long hard pull

up the nearest steepest hill

bouncing along without a spill

looking out of my window

hoping for a big time show

round the curve and down the tracks

passing shacks