DOWNBOUND TRAINChuck BerryA stranger lying on a bar room floorhad drank so much he could drink no more,and so he fell asleep with a troubled brainto dream that he rode on that down bound train.The engine with blood was sweaty and dampand brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp,and imps for fuel was shoveling boneswhile the furnace rang with a thousand groans.The boiler was filled with lots of beerthe devil himself was the engineer,the passengers were most a motley crew,some were foreigners and others he knew.rich men and lost beggars in ragshandsome young ladies and wicked old hags.As the train rushed on at a terrible pacesulphuric fumes scorched their hands and face,wider and wider the country grewfaster and faster the engine flew,louder and louder the thunder crashedbrighter and brighter the lighting flashed,hotter and hotter the air becametil their clothes were burned with each quivering refrain.Then out of the din there came a yellha ha said the devil we're nearing home,oh how the passengers shrieked with painthey go to Satan with this down bound train.The stranger awoke with an anguished cryhis clothes wet with sweat and his hair standing high,he fell on his knees on the bar room floorand prayed a prayer like never before.And the prayers and vows were not in vainfor he never rode that down bound train.
