| Well I don’t care about my sorrows
|
| And I don’t care about my woes
|
| I put my knees down in the sand
|
| Down where that river flows
|
| I put my hands in the water
|
| Look for my elbows in the cold
|
| I let it wash my dirty face
|
| Let it clense my troubled soul
|
| Well, my name is Hub Cale
|
| And my home is whereever I lay
|
| And I was born to ride the rails
|
| Ride the rail til judgement day
|
| My face is wrinkled and weary
|
| As rough as railroad tie
|
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town
|
| I lift my jug to the sky
|
| Oh lord
|
| Well, I lift my jug to the sky
|
| And when that number 9 come rollin' by
|
| I lift my jug to the sky
|
| For I was an engineer
|
| I made my livin' shovelin' coal
|
| Paid my dues for 12 long years
|
| Then one day they let me go
|
| And that time it sure was rough
|
| And the labor sure took its toil
|
| For my lungs are as black
|
| As the feathers of the crow
|
| Now I lay underneath the trestle
|
| With my jug of homemade rye
|
| And when that train come rumblin' through this town
|
| I lift it up to the sky |