A stranger lying on a bar room floor

had drank so much he could drink no more,

and so he fell asleep with a troubled brain

to dream that he rode on that down bound train.

The engine with blood was sweaty and damp

and brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp,

and imps for fuel was shoveling bones

while the furnace rang with a thousand groans.

The boiler was filled with lots of beer

the devil himself was the engineer,

the passengers were most a motley crew,

some were foreigners and others he knew.

rich men and lost beggars in rags

handsome young ladies and wicked old hags.

As the train rushed on at a terrible pace

sulphuric fumes scorched their hands and face,

wider and wider the country grew

faster and faster the engine flew,

louder and louder the thunder crashed

brighter and brighter the lighting flashed,

hotter and hotter the air became

til their clothes were burned with each quivering refrain.

Then out of the din there came a yell

ha ha said the devil we're nearing home,

oh how the passengers shrieked with pain

they go to Satan with this down bound train.

The stranger awoke with an anguished cry

his clothes wet with sweat and his hair standing high,

he fell on his knees on the bar room floor

and prayed a prayer like never before.

And the prayers and vows were not in vain

for he never rode that down bound train.