William Elliott Whitmore - Lift My Jug

Well I don't care about my sorrows
And I don't care about my woes
I put my knees down in the sand
Down where that river flows
I put my hands in the water
Look for my elbows in the cold
I let it wash my dirty face
Let it clense my troubled soul

Well, my name is Hub Cale
And my home is whereever I lay
And I was born to ride the rails
Ride the rail til judgement day
My face is wrinkled and weary
As rough as railroad tie
And when that train come rumblin' through this town

I lift my jug to the sky
Oh lord
Well, I lift my jug to the sky
And when that number 9 come rollin' by I lift my jug to the sky

For I was an engineer
I made my livin' shovelin' coal
Paid my dues for 12 long years
Then one day they let me go
And that time it sure was rough
And the labor sure took its toil
For my lungs are as black
As the feathers of the crow
Now I lay underneath the trestle
With my jug of homemade rye
And when that train come rumblin' through this town I lift it up to the sky