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Out from the wide Pacific to the broad Atlantic shore |
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She climbs flowery mountains, over hills and by the shore |
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Although she's tall and handsome and she's known quite well by all |
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She's a regular combination of the Wabash Cannonball |
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Oh, the eastern states are dandy, so the western people say |
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Chicago, Rock Island, St. Louis by the way |
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To the lakes of Minnesota, where the rippling waters fall |
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No changes to be taken on the Wabash Cannonball |
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Oh, listen to the jingle, the rumor and the roar |
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As she glides along the woodlands, over hills and by the shore |
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She climbs the flowery mountains, hear the merrier hobo squall |
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She glides along the woodlands, the Wabash Cannonball |
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Oh, here's old Daddy Cleton, let his name forever be |
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And long be remembered in the courts of Tennessee |
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For he is a good old rounder, till the curtain round him fall |
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He'll be carried back to victory on the Wabash Cannonball |
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I have rode the I.C. Limited, also the Royal Blue |
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Across the eastern countries, on mail car number two |
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I have rode those highball trains from coast to coast, that's all |
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But I have found no equal to the Wabash Cannonball |
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Oh, listen to the jingle the rumor and the roar |
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As she glides along the woodlands, over hills and by the shore |
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She climbs the flowery mountains, hear the merrier hobo squall |
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She glides along the woodlands, the Wabash Cannonball |
