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Out from the wide Pacific to the broad Atlantic shore,
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she climbs flowery mountains o?er hills and by the shore.
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Although she's tall and handsome and she's known quite well by all,
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she's a regular combination of the Wabash Cannonball.
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Oh, the eastern states are dandy, so the western people say,
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Chicago, Rock Island, St. Louis by the way.
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To the lakes of Minnesota where the rippling waters fall,
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no changes to be taken on the Wabash Cannonball.
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Oh, listen to the jingle, the rumor and the roar,
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as she glides along the woodlands o?er hills and by the shore.
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She climbs the flowery mountains, hear the merry hobos squall,
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she glides along the woodlands, the Wabash Cannonball.
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Oh, here's Old Daddy Cleton, let his name forever be,
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and long be remembered in the courts of Tennessee.
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For he is a good old rounder, till the curtain round him fall,
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he'll be carried back to victory on the Wabash Cannonball.
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I have rode the I.C. Limited, also the Royal Blue
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across the eastern countries on mail car number two.
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I have rode those highball trains from coast to coast that's all,
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but I have found no equal to the Wabash Cannonball.
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Oh, listen to the jingle, the rumor and the roar,
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as she glides along the woodlands o?er hills and by the shore.
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She climbs the flowery mountains, hear the merry hobos squall,
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she glides along the woodlands, the Wabash Cannonball
Written by A.P. Carter