Lyrics:
Or can we continue to roam Will there be any freight trains in heaven Any boxcars in which we might hide Will there be any tough cops or brakemen Will
break me But I'll break them too Oh and this years for the brakemen And this one is for you When sky cracks open and the thunder comes About 100
And if I don't make it, you know my baby will Don't the moon look good, mama, shinin' through the trees Don't the brakemen look good, mama, flaggin'
don't make it, you know my baby will Don't the moon look good, honey, shinin' through the trees Don't the brakemen look good, baby, flaggin' down
shady Spending her days on a train Once a pullin' car traveler Now a brakemen won't have her She's trying just trying To get home again Once
And if I don't make it, you know my baby will Don't the moon look good, mama, shinin' through the trees Don't the brakemen look good, mama, flaggin'
down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats And the railway bulls are blind There's a lake of stew And of whiskey too You can paddle all
a-tricklin' down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too You can paddle
heaven any boxcars in which we might hide Will there be any tough cops and brakemen will they tell us that we cannot ride Will the hobo chum with the rich
down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats And the railway bulls are blind There's a lake of stew And of whiskey too You can paddle all
And if I don't make it, you know my baby will Don't the moon look good, mama, shinin' through the trees Don't the brakemen look good, mama, flaggin'
don't make it, you know my baby will Don't the moon look good, honey, shinin' through the trees Don't the brakemen look good, baby, flaggin' down
a-tricklin' down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too You can paddle
heaven Any boxcars in which we might hide Will there by any tough cops or brakemen Will they tell us that we cannot ride Will the hobo chum with the rich
and then The brakemen and the hobos Would leave me there at sundown Wondering where it all would end Wondering where it all would end That place you keep
Mountains In the Big Rock Candy Mountains You never change your socks And the little streams of alcohol Come a-trickling down the rocks And brakemen have
Railroad dust for the brakemen singing Blue Yodel #9 She'll have a stripe for Robert Johnson And one for Charlie Pride When the brand new Mississippi flag
(Shel Silverstein) Well I've sung my songs on dusty roads and dirty city sidewalks To them sweatin' hard eyed brakemen, in the rail yards I rolled
down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats And the railroad bulls are blind There's a lake of stew And of whiskey, too You can paddle all
The trains are gone, the trains are gone Spent like the coal they once rolled on The rails don't hum, the bows don't [?] No brake-men yodelin'
And the little streams of alcohol Come a-trickling down the rocks And the brakemen have to tip their hats And the ganja bowls are fine There's a lake of stew
streams of alcohol Come a-trickling down the rocks The brakemen have to tip their hats And the railroad bulls are blind There's a lake of stew a'whiskey,
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