That frozen night on the mountain grade
Woulda made a hard man cry.
When the moon shown through the blizzard storm,
We saw nothing ahead but sky
There was frozen sky falling off to the right
And cold gray sky behind,
And the winds closed in, and we kept up the fight
To make way towards Twenty, nine.

And some of the hands were desperate cold
And could no more compose,
They complained their bones were growing old,
Up high where the dark storm blows.
And we tore the wood from the passenger coach
To keep thuh driver flyin',
And the ancient wheels turned around again --
One more stroke for Twenty, nine.