She pulled out of Mobile
|
in the pouring rain,
|
Moving through the darkness
|
like a hurricane.
|
From southern New Port waters
|
to the Cumberland so green,
|
Louisville by Nashville
|
and all points in between.
|
Pounding out a rhythm
|
making up lost time,
|
Heading for that
|
bluegrass state of mine.
|
|
(Chorus)
|
White smoke a rollin'
|
Whistle a blowin'
|
Listening to her engine keeping time
|
Kentucky borderline.
|
|
Montgomery my morning
|
Birmingham by noon,
|
Onward through the timber
|
upward to the moon.
|
Her lonesome whistle cries
|
a low sighed refrain,
|
like the boys down on Mill street
|
singing of the pain.
|
No one is gonna stop her
|
from her appointed rounds,
|
This train is moving on
|
its glory bound.
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
Her lungs are full of fire
|
breathing burning coal,
|
A raging locamotion
|
like thunder when it rolls.
|
Singing for the mighty
|
who cast her molten steel,
|
Drawed the spike and layed the rail
|
to ride beneath her wheels.
|
The pride of our nation
|
she's a monument to them,
|
A southern bell
|
that mighty L&N
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
-----------------
|
Kentucky Borderline
|
Rhonda Vincent |