twenty -ninth day of last September,
the clouds was hangin' low.
When the old Ninety -Seven
pulled out from Washington
like an arrow shot from a bow
Well, the old Ninety -Seven
was the fastest mail train
Well, she run that road from Aus
through Jackson down to New Orleans
Well, the old ninety -seven
was the fastest mail train
to run that southern line
And when she pulled into Monroe,
she was forty -seven minutes behind
they handed up his orders
Saying, Steve, you're way behind time
This is not 38, it's old 97
You gotta put her in dispenser on time
Well, Stephen Brady was the engineer
But there's many brave men
that have lost their lives
to his black and dusty fireman,
you shovel on a little more coal
you're gonna see old Ninety -Seven
Well, it's a mighty rough road
From Lynchburg down to Dandel
With a line of three -mile grain
It was on that hill that he lost his air brakes
You can see by the jump he made
makin' ninety -mile or better
When his whistle broke into a scream
He was found in the wreck
with his hand upon the throttle
He scalded to death by the steam
Well, Steve, he had a wife
They're layin' home in bed
When the word come to him
that your husband and father
Is layin' down in North Damton dead
Well, ladies, won't you all take warning
And the husband when he leaves you
