The legend goes on, from the Chesapeake on down
Of the brave engineer who would hustle
But the mission would stop when his doom was a drop
And the fast train crashed down at the trestle
With a cargo of the mail, Steve B. did not think he'd fail
But there just ain't no roundhouse in Heaven
For a black locomote - it was all that she wrote
With the wreck of the old Ninety-Seven..

Virginia, Monroe - to N.C., Spencer, they'd go
Like the Edmund Fitzgerald for Cleveland
Built one year before, it barely rolled out the door
Till it's last destination was "Grieveland"
The engine they'd save, thirty-two years more, it gave
From then on, made it's runs, always on time
Tho' eighteen left alive, only seven survive,
For the widows and families a sad time..

This steamer must roll - so they shoveled more coal
Miles, one sixty-six they'd be railing
And the engineer knew, that the mail must go through
There can be no excuses for failing
He'd test this train through the tricky tough terrain
Like a big smoky bear it rolled, dashing
And roared right on through - Franklin Junction, too
Tho' the stop signals there had been flashing

When warning signs loom, they continue to zoom
Yellin' "Fireman, shovel and shake it!"
Big chances they'd take - had a schedule to make
And were all-out determined to make it
The weather was clear - with not a cloud in the sky
So, they fed that old iron horse fodder
Long smoke trails remained - like a necklace of white chain
Not a soul on that train was a nodder

Does anyone know where the Gods of trains go
When the wheels glow too hot for the cold steel?
The crowds came that day, was so tragic, they'd say
Bad train crashes like this, become too real
Some cars would break up, and the engine capsized
The mail mostly lost and destroyed
Canaries on board - fled their cage, off they soared
They're the only ones there overjoyed

Ninety-Seven rolled, superior speed
Tumbled down from the wood Stillhouse trestle
Black engine still steams, later, righted, it seems
Took effort from workers to wrestle
Now, old timer's will - still feel a cold chill
Out there in those Cumberland mountains
When they pause and recall, that bad train crash, and all
Or hear the old song, where remembered

In the churches and halls of Danville, they prayed
And in Monroe's and Spencer's cathedrals
Many church bells chimed - may have rang eleven times
For the lives lost the day of the peril
The legend goes on, from the Chesapeake on down
Of the brave engineer who would hustle
But the mission would stop when his doom was a drop
And the fast train crashed down at the trestle..