Pretty Little Engine

She thinks she can and chugs along where vistas dip and swell; A rush of steam, a puff of smoke, a whistle and a bell. Gonna buy me a haircut and polish up my boots When that pretty little engine comes to town. The miles speak more of landmarks passed than merely distance run; The hiss and clatter, music gained, not quietude undone. Gonna tune me a banjo and play it in the pines When that pretty little engine comes to town. She thinks she can, and so she does and rolls across the land. Her brakes might squeak like nails on slate, but stop her on command. Gonna grab me a ticket and really go in style When that pretty little engine comes to town.