| The clickety sound of the southbound freight
|
| And the high-speed hum of a passenger train
|
| Becomes a part of the soul and a heart and the mind
|
| Of a boy who’s raised by the railroad line
|
| The sound of a whistle at the crossin' road
|
| And the tanks and the trucks and the tractors on the flatcar load
|
| Becomes a part of the soul and a heart and the mind
|
| Of a boy who’s raised by the railroad line
|
| And the big round penny that you lay on the rails
|
| And the wheels mash flat
|
| And a glimpse of the faces of the ladies
|
| And the picture of the men in the engineer’s hat
|
| And the brakeman waves from the red caboose
|
| He’s a part of the past never quite turns loose
|
| It’s a part of the soul and a heart and the mind
|
| Of a boy who’s raised by the railroad line
|
| The clickety sound of the southbound freight
|
| And the high-speed hum of a passenger train
|
| Becomes a part of the soul and a heart and the mind
|
| Of a boy who’s raised by the railroad line
|
| And the big round penny that you lay on the rails
|
| And the wheels mash flat
|
| And a glimpse of the faces of the ladies
|
| And the picture of the men in the engineer’s hat |