Gimme about a half a teacup of bass
Now, I need a pound of fatback drums
Now, give me four tablespoons of boiling Memphis guitars
This goin' taste all right
I know a girl who thinks of ghosts,
She'll make you breakfast, she'll make you toast.
But she don't use butter.
And she don't use cheese.
She don't use jelly, or any of these.
She uses Vaseline
The engine was bloody
It was sweaty and damp
And brilliantly lit with a brimstone lamp
An imp for fuel was shovelin' bones
While a furnace rang with a thousand groans
The boiler was filled with lager beer
The devil himself was the engineer
The passengers were most a motley crew
Some were foreigners, and others he knew
Rich men in broadcloth, beggars in rags
Handsome young ladies and wicked old hags
As the train rushed on at a terrible pace
Sulfuric fumes scorched there hands and face
Wider and wider the country grew
Faster and faster the engine flew
How can we understand
Riots by the people for the people
Who are only destroying themselves
And when you see a frightened
Person who is frightened by the
People who are scorching this earth.
Nibblin' on sponge cake
Watchin' the sun bake
All of those tourists covered with oil
Strummin' my six-string
On my front-porch swing
Smell those shrimp
They're beginnin' to boil