The Ballad of Casey Jones [German translation]

Come all you rounders, for I want you to hear,

The story of a brave engineer.

Casey Jones was the rounder's name.

On a big eight wheeler of a mighty fame.

Caller called Casey 'bout half-past four,

He kissed his wife at the station door,

Climbed to the cab with the orders in his hand,

He says, "This is my trip to the holy land."

Out of South Memphis yard on the fly,

Heard the fireman say, "You got a white eye."

Well, the switchmen knew by the engine moan

That the man at the throttle was Casey Jones.

The rain was comin' down five or six weeks.

The railroad track was like the bed of a creek.

They slowed her down to a thirty mile gait

And the south-bound mail was eight hours late.

Fireman says, "Casey, you're runnin' too fast,

You run that block board the last station you passed."

Casey says, "I believe we'll make it though,

For she steams a lot better than I ever know."

Casey says, "Fireman, don't you fret,

Keep knockin' at the fire door, don't give up yet,

I'm going to run her till she leaves the rail,

Or make it on time with the south-bound mail."

Around the curve and down the dump,

Two locomotives was a bound to jump,

Fireman hollered, "Casey, it's just ahead,

We might jump and make it but we'll all be dead."

Around the curve comes a passenger train,

Casey blows the whistle, tells the fireman, "Ring the bell,"

Fireman jumps and says "Good-bye,

Casey Jones, You're bound to die."

Well Casey Jones was all right.

He stuck to his duty day and night.

They loved his whistle and his ring number three,

And he come into Memphis on the old I.C.

Fireman goes down the depot track,

Begging his honey to take him back,

She says, "Oranges on the table, peaches on the shelf,

You're a goin' to get tired sleepin' by yourself."

Mrs. Casey Jones was a sittin' on the bed.

Telegram comes that Casey is dead.

She says, "Children, go to bed, and hush your cryin',

'Cause you got another papa on the Frisco line."

Headaches and heartaches and all kinds of pain.

They ain't apart from a railroad train.

Stories of brave men, noble and grand,

Belong to the life of a railroad man.

• Artist:Wallace Saunders