The Greenville Trestle

I remember as a boy how in wonderment and joy
I’d watch the trains as they’d go by
And the whistle’s lonesome sound you could here from miles around
As they rolled across that Greenville Trestle high.

   But the whistles don’t sound like they used to
   Lately not many trains go by
   Hard times across the land mean no work for a railroad man
   And the Greenville Trestle now don’t seem so high.

On the riverbank I’d stand with a cane pole in my hand
And watch the freight trains up against the sky
With the black smoke trailing back as they moved along the track
That runs across that Greenville Trestle high.

When the lonesome whistles whined I’d get rambling on my mind
Lord I wish they still sounded that way
As I turned to head for home Lord she’d rumble low and long
Toward the sunset at the close of day.