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From the great Atlantic Ocean to the wide Pacific shore |
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From the green and flowery mountains to the south belt by the shore |
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She's mighty tall and handsome, she's known quite well by all |
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She's a modern combination called the Wabash Cannon Ball |
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Listen to the jingle, the rumble and the roar |
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As she glides along the woodlands, over hills and by the shore |
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Hear the mighty rush of the engine, hear the lonesome hobo's call |
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Traveling through the jungles on the Wabash Cannon Ball |
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Oh the Eastern States are dandy, so the Western people say |
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From New York to Chicago, and Rock Island by the way |
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From the hills of Minnesota where the rippling waters fall |
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No chances to be taken on the Wabash Cannon Ball |
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Listen to the jingle, the rumble and the roar |
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As she glides along the woodlands, over hills and by the shore |
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Hear the mighty rush of the engine, hear the lonesome hobo's call |
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Travelling through the jungles on the Wabash Cannon Ball |
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I rode the IC Limited, also the Royal Blue |
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Across the Eastern counties on the Elkhorn number two |
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I rode these highball trains from coast to coast, and that's all |
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But I have found no equal to the Wabash Cannon Ball |
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Listen to the jingle, the rumble and the roar |
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As she glides along the woodlands, over hills and by the shore |
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Hear the mighty rush of the engine, hear the lonesome hobo's call |
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Travelling through the jungles on the Wabash Cannon Ball |
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Here's to Daddy Claxton, may his name forever be |
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Always be remembered in the courts of Tennessee |
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His earthly race is over now, the curtains round him fall |
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They're carrying him home to victory on the Wabash Cannon Ball |
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Listen to the jingle, the rumble and the roar |
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As she glides along the woodlands, over hills and by the shore |
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Hear the mighty rush of the engine, hear the lonesome hobo's call |
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Traveling through the jungles on the Wabash Cannon Ball |
