THE TRAIN WRECK AT KIOWA CREEK
The clouds drew heavy and the winds blew cold
on a dark night in December.
Old #8 full of scrap-iron freight
was haulin' out east from Denver.
Rain came down like the wrath of God
and the sky was ablaze with lightnin'.
The floodwater surge was pickin' up speed
and Kiowa Creek was risin'.
He looked out into the ragin' storm
and he opened up the lever.
Old #8 was was makin' good time
in spite of this heavy weather.
But just ahead in it's churnin' bed,
the bridge began to give,
and the men on freight train #8
had 7 more minutes to live.
CHORUS:
And the midnight train keeps a-rollin' on,
creek's been risin' all night long.
The floodwater surge is comin' on strong,
and Kiowa Bridge 607.80 is gone.
Well, they set the red light up the track,
'cause they knew this train was comin',
and the stationmaster at Kiowa Crossing
was out on the rails a-runnin'.
The throttle screamed into reverse
and the brakeman heaved like thunder,
but the wheels just slid on the frozen rails,
and the engine barreled onward.
REPEAT CHORUS
Well, the engine plunged off into the flood
and it's headlight's eerie glow
could still be seen from the naked ridge
in the icy water below.
Then Old #8, that mighty freight,
was gone in the blink of an eye,
and 25 cars were washed away
to that rail yard in the sky.
REPEAT CHORUS
Now the big rigs cross on Highway 6
just above the timberline,
and the quiet little creek flowin' underneath
never pays them any mind.
But they say if you listen to the wind
on a rainy night in December,
you can hear the rumble of an old ghost train
haulin' back home to Denver.