| From the great Atlantic ocean
|
| To the wide Pacific shore
|
| To the queen of flowing mountains
|
| For the hills and by the shore
|
| She’s mighty tall and handsome
|
| And she’s known quite well by all
|
| She came down from Birmingham
|
| On the Wabash Cannonball
|
| Well now listen to the jingle
|
| To the rumble and the roar
|
| As she glides along the woodland
|
| Through the hills and by the shore
|
| Hear the mighty rush of the engine
|
| And the lonesome hoboes call
|
| No changes can be taken
|
| On the Wabash Cannonball
|
| Now here’s to daddy Claxton
|
| May his name forever stand
|
| He’ll always be remembered
|
| In the ports throughout the land
|
| His earthly race is over
|
| And the curtain round him falls
|
| We’ll carry him home to Glory
|
| On the Wabash Cannonball
|
| Well now listen to the jingle
|
| To the rumble and the roar
|
| As she glides along the woodland
|
| Through the hills and by the shore
|
| Hear the mighty rush of the engine
|
| And the lonesome hoboes call
|
| No changes can be taken
|
| On the Wabash Cannonball
|
| Well listen to the jingle
|
| To the rumble and the roar
|
| As she glides along the woodland
|
| Through the hills and by the shore
|
| Hear the mighty rush of the engine
|
| And the lonesome hoboes call
|
| No changes can be taken
|
| On the Wabash Cannonball |