| They gave him his orders at Monroe, Virginia,
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| Sayin’Steve, you’re way behind time;
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| It’s 8:38, and it’s the Old '97;
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| Gotta put her into Danville on time.
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| Well, it’s a mighty rough road from Lynchburg down to Danville,
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| On a line with a three-mile grade;
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| It was down that line where he lost his air-brakes;
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| You can see what a jump he made.
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| Steve Brady he said to his black, greasy fireman,
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| Shovel on a little more coal;
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| I’m waitin’to pass them wide-open mountains;
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| Gonna see the Old '97 roll.
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| He’s comin’down that line makin’ninety miles an hour;
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| The whistle broke into a scream;
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| They found him in the wreck with his hand upon the throttle;
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| He’d been scalded to death by steam.
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| Well, come on now, all you ladies;
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| From this time on, now learn;
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| Don’t you ever say harsh words to your true-lovin'husband;
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| He’ll leave you and never return.
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| (Instrumental bridge)
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| Well, he’s comin’down that line makin’ninety miles an hour;
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| And the whistle broke into a scream;
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| They found him in the wreck with his hand upon the throttle;
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| He’d been scalded to death by steam.
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| (Chorus thrice) |