As I stood on the mountain one cold frosty morningJust watching the smoke from belowIt was twirling from an old lonesome smokestackWay down on the southern roadWell, he picked up his orders in Monroe, VirginiaSaying, Steve, you're way behind timeThis is not 38, but it's 097Gonna put her into Spencer on timeThen he turned and he said to his black crazy firemanShovel in a little moreAnd when we reach that old white oak mountainYou can watch 097 rollNow it's a mighty rough roadFrom Lynchburg to DanvilleAnd she's lying on the roadOn a three-mile gradeIt was on that stretch that he lost his air brakeYou can see what a jump he madeHe was coming down that gradeMaking 90 milesAnd I went with his whistleBroke into a streamAnd they found him in a wreckWith his hand on a throttleHe was called to death by the steamWell, the music was travelingOr the telegraph wiresThis was the time of my lifeThis is what it saidSaid that brave engineer from Monroe, VirginiaIs the line in that graveyard deadSo I'm telling you, my fair ladyTake warning from this time onAnd learnNever speak harsh wordsTo your true loving husbandHe may leave you to never returnBut best you here from Denver*