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BOXCAR WILLIE *WABASH CANNONBALL*
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FICTIONAL STORY OF THE TRAIN CALLED WABASH CANNONBALL. LYRICS;
From the great Atlantic Ocean
To the wide Pacific shore,
From the queen of the flowing mountains,
To the South belt by the shore,
She's mighty tall and handsome,
And known quite well by all,
She's the combination called The Wabash Cannonball,
She pulled into Birmingham,
One cold December day,
As she rolled into the station,
You could hear the people say,
There's a girl from Tennessee,
She's long and she's tall,
She just came down to Birmingham,
On The Wabash Cannonball
Our Eastern states are dandies,
So the Western people say,
From New York to St. Louie and Chicago by the way,
From the hills of Minnesota,
Where the rippling waters fall,
No chances can be taken on The Wabash Cannonball,
In the Boxcar is a Wiseman,
His Cash is running low,
I think his name was Carter, Many years ago,
Acuff that's torn and tattered,
Destined soon to fall,
His guitar tuned to the whistle,
Of The Wabash Cannonball,
Listen to the jingle the rumble and the roar,
As she rolls along the woodland,
Through the hills and by the shore,
Hear the mighty rush of the engine,
Hear the lonesome hoboes squall (call),
Travellin' through the Southland (Jungle),
On The Wabash Cannonball,
Now here's to Daddy Claxton,
May his name forever stand,
And always be remembered in,
The courts throughout this land,
His earthly race is over and the curtain 'round him falls,
They'll carry him on to Glory,
On The Wabash Cannonball
From the great Atlantic Ocean
To the wide Pacific shore,
From the queen of the flowing mountains,
To the South belt by the shore,
She's mighty tall and handsome,
And known quite well by all,
She's the combination called The Wabash Cannonball,
She pulled into Birmingham,
One cold December day,
As she rolled into the station,
You could hear the people say,
There's a girl from Tennessee,
She's long and she's tall,
She just came down to Birmingham,
On The Wabash Cannonball
Our Eastern states are dandies,
So the Western people say,
From New York to St. Louie and Chicago by the way,
From the hills of Minnesota,
Where the rippling waters fall,
No chances can be taken on The Wabash Cannonball,
In the Boxcar is a Wiseman,
His Cash is running low,
I think his name was Carter, Many years ago,
Acuff that's torn and tattered,
Destined soon to fall,
His guitar tuned to the whistle,
Of The Wabash Cannonball,
Listen to the jingle the rumble and the roar,
As she rolls along the woodland,
Through the hills and by the shore,
Hear the mighty rush of the engine,
Hear the lonesome hoboes squall (call),
Travellin' through the Southland (Jungle),
On The Wabash Cannonball,
Now here's to Daddy Claxton,
May his name forever stand,
And always be remembered in,
The courts throughout this land,
His earthly race is over and the curtain 'round him falls,
They'll carry him on to Glory,
On The Wabash Cannonball
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