| She’s a railroad lady
|
| Just a little bit shady
|
| Spending her days on a train
|
| She’s a semi good looker
|
| But the fast rails they took her
|
| Now she’s trying just trying
|
| To get home again
|
| South station in Boston
|
| To the stockyards of Austin
|
| From the Florida sunshine
|
| To the New Orleans rain
|
| Now that the rail packs
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| Have taken the best tracks
|
| She’s trying just trying
|
| To get back home again
|
| She’s a railroad lady
|
| Just a little bit shady
|
| Spending her days on a train
|
| Once a Pullman car traveler
|
| Now the brakemen won’t have her
|
| She’s trying just trying
|
| To get home again
|
| Once a high-balling loner
|
| Thought he could own her
|
| And he bought her a fur coat
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| And a big diamond ring
|
| But she hocked them for cold cash
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| In a town on the Wabash
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| Never thinking never thinking
|
| Of home way back then
|
| But the rails are now rusty
|
| And the dining car’s dusty
|
| The gold plated watches
|
| Have taken their toll
|
| The railroads’re dying
|
| And the lady is crying
|
| On a bus to Kentucky
|
| And home that’s her goal
|
| She’s a railroad lady
|
| Just a little bit shady
|
| Spending her days on a train
|
| She’s a semi good looker
|
| But the fast rails they took her
|
| Now she’s trying just trying
|
| To get home again
|
| On a bus to Kentucky
|
| And home once again |