| Out from the wide Pacific to the broad Atlantic shore
|
| She climbs flowery mountains over hills and by the shore
|
| Although she’s tall and handsome and she’s known quite well by all
|
| She’s a regular combination of the Wabash Cannonball
|
| Oh, the eastern states are dandy, so the western people say
|
| Chicago, Rock Island, St. Louis by the way
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| To the lakes of Minnesota where the rippling waters fall
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| No changes to be taken on the Wabash Cannonball
|
| Oh, listen to the jingle
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| The rumble and the roar
|
| As she glides along the woodlands
|
| Over hills and by the shore
|
| She climbs the flowery mountains
|
| Hear the merry hobos squall
|
| She glides along the woodlands
|
| The Wabash Cannonball
|
| Oh, here’s Old Daddy Cleton, let his name forever be
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| And long be remembered in the ports of Tennessee
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| For he is a good old rounder till the curtain round him fall
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| He’ll be carried back to victory on the Wabash Cannonball
|
| I have rode the I.C. |
| Limited, also the Royal Blue
|
| Across the eastern countries on mail car number two
|
| I have rode those highball trains from coast to coast that’s all
|
| But I have found no equal to the Wabash Cannonball
|
| Oh, Listen to the jingle
|
| The rumble and the roar
|
| As she glides along the woodlands
|
| Over hills and by the shore
|
| She climbs the flowery mountains
|
| Hear the merry hobo squall
|
| She glides along the woodlands
|
| The Wabash Cannonball
|
| (Instrumental break) |