Old Number Forty Five (Larry W. Jones 07/13/2010) (song#6020)

The weather was cold and raining, tired eyes straining
From the window of the small switchman’s shack that night
Winds and rains were violent, telegraph was silent
And it was many hours before the next daylight

It sounds strange to some, telegraph began to hum
And the young switchman read the dots and dashes through
Then he became afraid, a freight was on the grade
Climbing through the cold wind and rain without a crew

The switch was thrown at the bottom before the turn
But the old train kept puffing right on up the slope
The switchman’s lantern burned as he tried to discern
Something so strange on which his mind just could not cope

He heard a whistle blow from somewhere down below
And said, that sure ain’t the sound of an outward bound
Dots and dashes said a gold mine was in ashes
Just past a trestle where forty men must be found

Then the train appeared, climbing in her strongest gear
Her stack on fire was glowing like a midnight sun
The switchman brought to mind trains from another time
And one that had to make another railroad run

Then he saw her number, burning coal and lumber
She was climbing up the grade with an awful noise
Sure as I’m alive, that’s old number forty five
She runs like a mother trying to save her boys

The switchman knew the tale that rail men love to tell
Of the old locomotive number forty five
Her sounds were like crying for boys who were dying
Young miners were trapped but some may still be alive

Then he remembers, that train had steel and timbers
That could save the lost miners up the Great Divide
But the load wrestled was heavy for the trestle
Number forty five never reached the other side

Sometimes round the bend you can hear a moan begin
From a train that hasn’t been seen for a long time
Some say old number forty five is still alive
She’s still trying to save young miners in their prime

Then he saw her number, burning coal and lumber
She was climbing up the grade with an awful noise
Sure as I’m alive, that’s old number forty five
She runs like a mother trying to save her boys

Old number forty five, some say she never died

Kingwood Kowboy