If you will listen,
a song I will sing
about my daddy who ran a log train
way down in the Southland in old Alabama.
We lived in a place that they called Chaplin Town.
Late in the evening when the sun was low,
way off in the distance you could hear the
train blow.
The folks would come running and mama would sing,
get supper on the table,
here comes the log train.
Every morning at the break of day,
he'd *** his lunch pocket and be on his way.
Winter,
summer,
sunshine or rain,
every morning he'd run
that old log train.
Sweatin' and swearin'
all day long.
Shoutin' get up the rocks and keep mowin' along.
Load her up boys,
cause it looks like rain.
I gotta get rollin' this old log train.
This story
happened a long time ago.
The log train is silent, God called dad to go.
But when I
get to heaven to always remain,
I'll listen for the whistle on the old log
train.
I'll listen for the whistle on the old log train.