Well, I was pulling up a grade that's known as the Devil's Crest
Hauling 36-ton on a run called the Nitro Express
There was nothing but curves running from the top on down
And at the bottom of the grade said a quiet little country town
Well, I was driving off the top when she jarred and the drive shaft broke
Started pumping up the brakes saw her go in a big cloud of smoke
To keep her upright I knew I had to do my best
Against a runaway bomb they call the Nitro Express
There was 36-ton of a bit made of steel over 18 tires that smoked and squealed
I had to ride her down I couldn't jump free
Or there'd be a big hole where that little town used to be
Well, that old trader leaned each time that I took another curve
My hands started sweating and I knew I was losing my nerve
And I was cussing each rock and every inch of the Devil's Crest
While fighting with the wheel of a rig called the Nitro Express
I sideswiped the mountain so I'd slow her down by rubbing her side
And when the sparks started flying man it looked like the 4th of July
I finally got her stopped but mister I'm a gonna confess
That's the last run I'm making in a rig called the Nitro Express
There was 36-ton of a bit made of steel over 18 tires that smoked and squealed
I had to ride her down I couldn't jump free
Or there'd be a big hole where that little town used to be
There was 36-ton of a bit made of steel over 18 tires that smoked and squealed
I had to ride her down I couldn't jump free
Or there'd be a big hole where that little town used to be