Wreck Of The Old 97 Lyrics

Well, they gave him his orders at Monroe, Virginia, said:?Pete, you´re ´way behind time;This is not thirty-eight, this is old ninety-seven,Put her into Spencer on timeThen her turned around and said to his black greasy fireman?Shovel on a little more coal,And when we cross that white oak mountainWatch old ninety-seven roll.And then a telegram came from Washington Stationand this is how it read-Oh that brave engineer that ran old ninety-sevenIs lying in old Anvil dead.´Cos he was going down the grade making ninety miles an hourthe whistle broke into a scream-He was found in the wreck with his handon the Throttle-Scalded to dead by the steam.Well now ? all you ladies had better take a warningfrom this time on and learn,never speak harsh words to your true lovin´ husbandHe may leave you and never return ? poor boy!