It was on the train to the Big Twelve Grand
Where the children of MOAB took their stand.
They had to stand for they could not sit
'Cause the place was hip-deep in bullshit.

Now Amos Jesup was the engineer
Of that train a-headed for nowhere.
With his steely eye and his bulldog jaw
He looked a lot like your mother-in-law

And the fireman was named Kid Rapaire
A bookworm with a quiet stare
And the quickest "OVERDUE" stamp in the west
And a forty-four beneath his vest

On lookout was Stilly River Sage
A stalwart gal by any gauge
A crack shot with an old six-shooter
And hell on a laptop computer.

And among the passengers on that train
Was Mmario and Bunnahabhain,
And Rustic Rebel, a guy named Giok,
And khandu, Tweed, and Little Hawk.

And in the back, in the caboose,
Was Bee-dubya, sometimes known as Bruce.
The janitor upon that train
An idjit with just half a brain.

Now the train was hummin' down the track
Bullshit a-blowin' from its BS stack
When Stilly cried "What's that ahead?
It looks just like Flamingo Ted!

That thief of posts of even hundred!"
But then it was Rapaire's gun thundered
And Ted was gone, his ass was toast,
He'd never steal another post..

And Amos poured upon more coal
For up ahead he saw the goal
The twelve-thousandth holy MOAB post
But then he turned white as a ghost!

For on the tracks there stood a fellow
A tub of lard with eyes of yellow
A talentless blob wrapped in fat
And Amos cried, "It's Bill the Shat!

The scourge of all in MOABland,
('Cept Little Hawk, Shat's biggest fan.)"
And once again Rapaire's gun sounded
And off the tracks that Shatner bounded.

And the MOAB train it blew right by
It spit BS in Shatner's eye.
The passengers began to cheer
The Big Twelve Grand was getting near!

But would they reach that hallowed ground
Without some jackass coming 'round
And as a joke, a goof, a whim
Taking that holy post from them?

We'll know in just a few more posts
And then we can sit back and coast
'Til thirteen-thousand comes around
Or Max decides to shut us down.