The Ghost Train

  On top a mountain a legend was bornOf a train, whose whistle still blowsTho there's not been tracks for a hundred yearsThis train, somehow still goes They call it the ghost train, its final runFor it crashed on that mountain they sayCarrying lumber to the valley belowAnd many were killed that day Its whistle still heard night after nightAs the wind still beckons her criesVoices still heard in the darkness so clearAnd the screams of everyone who dies Twenty-one souls were lost that dayAs they plunged to their certain demiseThe faint smell of blood in clouds of smoke Still fill the mountain skies A sign was erected, to remember the lostTheir names, were written in whiteThey wander the mountain trying to get home Destined, to relive that night Some say that it's only a legendBut I know the story is trueFor each time I take my family campingWe hear that train whistle too