We had rung 11977's bell,
We were hot out of that gate,
And that grimy engineer yelled, "Hell!"
"Make it 11-9-78!"
"I've still coal in the bunker, boys,
And them brakes won't touch my hand,
So if Spaw don't fart
An' we don't fall apart,
Why, we'll make it to the ole Twelve Grand."

Onward and upward, brave companions!

Damn the plagiarism, full speed ahead!


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