The Ghost Train

On top a mountain a legend was born Of a train, whose whistle still blows Tho there's not been tracks for a hundred years This train, somehow still goes They call it the ghost train, its final run For it crashed on that mountain they say Carrying lumber to the valley below And many were killed that day Its whistle still heard night after night As the wind still beckons her cries Voices still heard in the darkness so clear And the screams of everyone who dies Twenty-one souls were lost that day As they plunged to their certain demise The faint smell of blood in clouds of smoke Still fill the mountain skies A sign was erected, to remember the lost Their names, were written in white They wander the mountain, trying to get home Destined, to relive that night Some say that it's only a legend But I know the story is true For each time I take my family camping We hear that train whistle too