The Little Red Train

[ C ]

The engineer was at the throttle,
	She blew, she blew.
The engineer was at the throttle,
	She blew, she blew.
The engineer was at the throttle,	
	Jerking off in a whiskey bottle,
And away she blew, the son of a bitch she blew.

Similarly:

The fireman he was shoveling coal,
A red-hot cinder flew up his asshole.

The brakeman was a-cleaning the lamps,
And all of a sudden he shit in his pants.

The switchman forgot to turn the switch,
And the train ran over the son of a bitch.

The porter was making up a berth
Fucking a whore for all he was worth.

The mailman was sorting out the mail,
And tearing off a piece of tail.

The hobo he fell off the struts,
And forty-nine cars ran over his nuts.

The baggageman sitting on a truck,
He and his girl playing stick-finger-up.

The conductor was sitting in the can,
And when he came out he was of a man.

The agent was a lazy mick,
Stamped the checks witht he end of his prick.

The president sat in his private car,
Squirting semen wide and far.

The secretary was a dirty cur.
He fucked the fair stenographer.

The dining car crew were all in a heap,
For tail was dear but ass was cheap.

The newlyweds, in lower nine,
Were up to their necks in steaming brine.

The old lady sat in the Pullman car,
A-fucking herself with a coupling bar.

The drummer lay in the upper berth,
A-flogging his dummy for all he [was] worth.

The engineer expected a wreck,
And he shit his pants clear up to the neck.

	This is from the Hubert Canfield collection, gathered in the first months of 1926.  Canfield's informant was not credited on the typescript.