Watchin' that old smokestack.
Train is a-leavin' bit it won't be back.
Years ago we hung around,
Watchin' trains roll through the town.
Now that train is a-graveyard bound.
Where we go up in that North Country,
Lakes and streams and mines so free,
I had no better friend than he.
Something happened to him that day,
I thought I heard a stranger say,
I hung my head and stole away.
A diesel truck was rollin' slow,
Pullin' down a heavy load.
It left him on a Utah road.
They carried him back to his home town,
His mother cried, his sister moaned,
Listin' to them church bells tone.
