C. M. Sheffield
Puritan Board Graduate
On a cold and rainy night, I was sitting in the light
Of my switchman's shack on my post on the mountain
The storm was pretty bad and the telegraph was dead
But it was just eleven hours 'til the dawn
Then much to my surprise, the telegraph jumped into life
As I read the code I thought, "Could this be true?"
A train was on it's way, headed up the mountain grade
But she didn't have no engineer or crew
At the other switch they tried to put her on the mountainside
But she kept on coming up the mountain grade
Well I quickly doused the light, to try to see into the night
Maybe I could spot her headlight in the rain
She was pounding down below, I could hear her whistle blow
And I thought, "Lord that's a high and mournful sound"
Then the telegraph began, there's a cave-in at the mine
And a hundred men are buried 'neath the ground
Lord she's coming now I see, around the bend and straight at me
And her boiler's glowing red as coal in hell
The headlight switches wide, searching all the mountainside
But the only sound she's making is a wail
Then I recognize the train by the number and the name
It's the Miner's Silver Ghost Old 41
Then she vanished up the track, by the lonely switchman's shack
Like a mother who was looking for her son
Now I heard a story, of how an engine went to glory
Over fifty years ago on this same line
It was steamin' for a cave, and there were men who needed saved
But it missed the curve and trestle near the mine
And every now and then you'll hear a whistle on the wind
If a mountain slides and many men are lost
It's a high and lonely wail, searching up and down the mountain
It's the train they call the Miner's Silver Ghost
The train they call the Miner's Silver Ghost
The train they call the Miner's Silver Ghost
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