Brian Burns The Crash At Crush
In the year of 1896, when the Katy railroad was king,
and the fruits of farm and industry were carried by steel and steam,
the town of Crush was christened for a day, and folks came from far and wide
to gather there in the sweltering heat and watch two trains collide.
Two locomotives, breathing steam, sat face-to-face on the track,
then slowly their wheels began to turn as the engineers throttled them back.
Both climbed a grade leaving two miles between, on the hills they drew to a hush,
and forty-thousand people waited down below to witness the crash at Crush.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, wheels a-rumblin’ on the railroad track,
once they go they can’t turn back, once they go they can’t turn back.
He locked the lever back to the second notch just after the signal came,
he stayed on board for sixteen exhausts, and then he jumped off of the train.
The young engineer watched her roar down the hill and a chill ran through his soul,
for he knew that neither man nor God above could stop what would now unfold.
The engines met in a thunderous crash and climbed each other toward the sky,
the impact rattled the earth for miles around, and the twisted wreckage did fly.
In a moment more the boilers exploded, and the steam blocked out the sun,
some lost their lives while others lie bleeding, and the rest of them could only run.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, wheels a-rumblin’ on the railroad track,
once they go they can’t turn back, once they go they can’t turn back.
In a cotton field near Waco, Texas between two peaceful hills
a sign reminds us to hold respect for the power of the beasts we build,
and you and I in our lifetimes will never get to feel such a rush
as the people who saw and lived to tell of the awesome crash at Crush.
Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, wheels a-rumblin’ on the railroad track,
once they go they can’t turn back, once they go they can’t turn back.
