Coll. by M.C. Parler Mrs. Hattie Wynne Williams
Beech Grove, Ark.
January 30, 1960
Reel 334, Item 8
Old Number Nine
On a cold winter night, not a star was in sight,
And the north wind came howling down the line,
With a sweetheart so dear stood a brave engineer,
With his orders to pull old Number Nine.
She kissed him goodby, with a tear in her eye,
But the joy in his heart he could not hide,
For the whole world was bright when he told her that night That tomorrow she'd be his blushing bride.
The wheels hummed a song as the train rolled along And the black smoke came pouring from the stack,
And the headlight agleam seemed to brighten his dream Of tomorrow when he'd be going back.
He sped round a hill and his brave heart stood still,
For the headlight was shining in his face, He whispered a prayer and he threw on the air,
For he knew this would be his last race.
In the wreck he was found lying there on the ground,
And he asked them to raise his weary head,
As his breath slowly went this message he sent To the maiden who thought she would be wed.
There's a little white home that I bought for our home,
And I dreamed we'd be happy by and by,
I leave it to you, for I know you'll be true,
Till we meet at the Golden Gates, goodby.
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