| Now bein' six years old, | |
| I had seen some trains before, so it's hard to figure out what | |
| I'm at the depot for. | |
| Trains are big and black and smokin' - steam screamin' at the wheels, bigger than anything they is, at least that's the way she feels | |
| Trains are big and black and smokin', louder'n | |
| July four, but everybody's actin' like this might be somethin' more. . . . . .than just pickin' up the mail, or the soldiers from the war. | |
| This is somethin' that even old man | |
| Wileman never seen before. | |
| And it's late afternoon on a hot | |
| Texas day. somethin' strange is goin' on, and we's all in the way. | |
| Well there's fifty or sixty people they're just sittin' on their cars, and the old men left their dominos and they come down from the bars. | |
| Everybody's checkin', old | |
| Jack Kittrel check his watch, and us kids put our ears to the rails to hear 'em pop. | |
| So we already knowed it, when they finally said 'train time' you'd a-thought that | |
| Jesus Christ his-self was rollin' down the line. ' | |
| Cause things got real quiet, momma jerked me back, | |
| But not before | |
| I'd got the chance to lay a nickel on the track. | |
| Chorus Look out here she comes, she's comin', | |
| Look out there she goes, she's gone, screamin' straight through | |
| Texas like a mad dog cyclone. | |
| Big, red, and silver, she don't make no smoke, she's a fast-rollin' streamline come to show the folks. | |
| Look out here she comes, she's comin' | |
| Look out there she goes, she's gone, screamin' straight through | |
| Texas like a mad dog cyclone. . . . | |
| Lord, she never even stopped. | |
| She left fifty or sixty people still sittin' on their cars, and they're wonderin' what it's comin' to and how it got this far. | |
| Oh but me | |
| I got a nickel smashed flatter than a dime by a mad dog, runaway red-silver streamline. . . train | |
| Chorus |
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