The Lonesome Train - Listen
The long war was
over,
The tall man with the
sad eyes and the stooping shoulders was tired. And so, one night he did
what everybody likes to do sometimes when they’re tired; He went to a show.
He went down to Ford’s theater in Washington town, and he sat in a box. And it was the number one box, because he was a pretty big man. Well, the play went on, and along about the middle of the evening something happened that wasn’t on the program. I guess you all know what that was. The news spread pretty fast:
They carried the news
from Washington,
That Abraham Lincoln’s
time had come.
John Wilkes Booth shot
Lincoln dead
With a pistol bullet
through the head.
The slaves were free;
the war was won,
But the fight for freedom
was just begun.
There were still slaves;
the hungry and poor,
Men who were not free
to speak,
Freedom’s a thing that
has no ending,
It needs to be cared
for; it needs defending.
A great long job for
many hands,
Carrying freedom ‘cross
the land.
A job for all the people
carrying freedom across the land.
A job for Lincoln’s people.
And you know who Lincoln’s people were?
A Brooklyn blacksmith,
a Pittsburgh preacher,
A small-town tailor,
a back-woods teacher,
An old store-keeper shaking
his head,
Handing over a loaf of
bread,
A Buffalo-hunter telling
a story
Out of the Oregon territory.
They were his people;
he was their man.
You couldn’t quite tell
where the people left off and where Abe Lincoln began.
There was a silence in
Washington town, when they carried Mr. Lincoln down.
A lonesome train on a
lonesome track --
Seven coaches painted
black --
Mr. Lincoln’s funeral
train traveling the long road from
Washington to Baltimore,
Baltimore to Philadelphia,
Philadelphia to New York,
Albany, Syracuse, Cleveland,
Chicago to Springfield, Illinois.
A slow train, a quiet
train
Carrying Lincoln home
again.
It wasn’t quite mist;
it was almost rain,
Falling down on that
funeral train,
There was a strange and
quiet crowd,
Nobody wanting to talk
out loud.
Along the streets, across
the square,
Lincoln’s people were
waiting there.
A young sergeant stood
in the road and said:
“You’d think they’d have
warned him. I mean,
even a rattlesnake warns
you!”
And an old man answered:
“This one must have been a copperhead!”
Some in the North and
some in the West and some by the President’s side,
They cursed him every
day that he lived and cheered on the day he died.
A lonesome train on a
lonesome track --
Seven coaches painted
black --
They carried Mr. Lincoln
down,
The train started - the
wheels went round -
You could hear that whistle
for miles around
Crying, Freedom! Freedom!
They tell this story
about that train,
They say that Lincoln
wasn’t on that train!
When that train started
on its trip that day,
Lincoln was in Alabama,
miles away.
Yes, sir, down in Alabama,
in an old wooden church,
didn’t have no paint,
didn’t have no floor,
didn’t have no glass
in the windows.
Just a pulpit and some
wooden benches ...
Abe Lincoln on the last
bench, away in the back,
Listening to the sermon,
listening to the singing
You may bury me in the
east; you may bury me in the west, but I’ll hear that trumpet sound in
the morning!
This evening brothers
and sisters, I come in the holiest manner, to tell how he died.
He was a lying there
his blood on the ground, a covering in the ground, and while he was a lying
there the sun rose. The sun rose and recognized him. And just as soon as
the sun recognized him, it clothed itself in sackcloth and it went right
back down. Oh the sun went down in mourning. And seven angels leaped over
the Battlement of Glory and they come on down to get him, and as soon as
the angels come near to him, G-d almighty, he stood up, oh he rose up,
and he walked down among us! Praise G-d! He walked back down among his
people! Oh, I want to tell yeh, he’s living right here, right now! We got
a new land! My dear friends we got a new land. There ain’t no riding boss
with a whip, don’t have no backbiters, liars can’t go, cheaters can’t go,
ain’t no deputy to chain us and no high sheriff to bring us back!
You can bury me in the
east; you can bury me in the west, but I’ll hear that trumpet sound in
the morning!
Down in Alabama, nothing but a pulpit and some wooden benches, and Mr. Lincoln sitting in the back, away in the back.
A lonesome train on a
lonesome track --
Seven coaches painted
black --
A slow train, a quiet
train
Carrying Lincoln home
again;
Washington, Baltimore,
Pittsburgh, Philadelphia,
Coming into New York
town,
You could hear that whistle
for miles around
Crying, Freedom! Freedom!!
From Washington to New
York people lined the tracks.
A strange crowd, a quiet
crowd, nobody wanting to talk out loud.
At lonely country crossroads
there were farmers and their wives and kids standing around for hours.
In Philadelphia, the line of mourners ran three miles.
An old lady stood by the coffin and said: “Mr. Lincoln, are you dead? Are you really dead?”
And some wanted him dead for a long, long time. A cotton speculator turned away from the coffin, saying: “All right boys, the drinks are on me!”
For there were those who
cursed the Union,
those who wanted the
people apart.
While the sound of the
freedom guns still echoed,
Copperheads struck at
the people’s heart.
I’ve heard it said that when that train pulled into New York town, Mr. Lincoln wasn’t around. He was where there was work to be done, where there were people having fun!
When that funeral train
pulled into New York,
Lincoln was down in a
Kansas town,
Swinging his lady ‘round
and ’round.
When young Abe Lincoln
came to dance,
those Kansas boys didn’t
have a chance!
They were dancing people
you could see,
they were folks so lively
and free,
the men were tall and
the girls were fair,
they fought for the right
to be dancing there.
Those Kansas boys didn’t
have a chance, when young Abe Lincoln came to dance.
A lonesome train on a
lonesome track --
Seven coaches painted
black --
The train started, the
wheels went round
All the way to Cleveland
town.
Albany, Syracuse, Meadville.
You could hear that whistle
for miles around
Crying, Freedom! Freedom!!
When that train rolled
into Cleveland town, Mr. Lincoln wasn’t around.
Lincoln walked in to
a hospital ward far from the funeral train.
There was Lincoln in
a hospital ward, talking to quiet a soldier’s pain.
“Where were you wounded
son? Lincoln said,
Standing by the soldiers
bed.
“At Bull Run, sir and
Chancellorsville,
I was shot when we stormed
the hill.
I’ve been worried since
Chancellorsville,
About killing, sir: it’s
wrong to kill!”
Lincoln said: “That’s
been bothering me;
How to make the war and
the Word agree.”
Quiet and tall, by the
side of the bed,
“There is a reason,”
Lincoln said.
“Until all men are equal
and all are free,
There will be no peace!
While there are whips
and chains and men to use them, there will be no peace!
After the battles, after
the blood and wounded,
when the chains are smashed
and the whips are broken
and the men who held
the whips are dead,
when men are brothers
and men are free, the killing will end!
The war will cease when
free men have a free man’s peace!”
“I’ll be going home soon,”
the soldier said.
Lincoln turned from the
side of the bed.
“I’ll see you there,”
Mr. Lincoln said.
A slow train, a funeral
train,
Carrying Lincoln home
again.
Last stop: Springfield,
Illinois!
Lincoln’s neighbors came;
farmers from o’er in the next county,
shopkeepers and shoemakers,
men who had hired him
for a lawyer,
men who had split rails
with him.
They came from Matoon
and Salem,
fellows who had swapped
stories with Abe Lincoln during those long Illinois winter nights.
Lincoln’s neighbors were
there.
A slow rain, a warm rain,
Falling down on the funeral
train.
When that train rolled
into Springfield, you know where Lincoln was.
He was standing with
his friends in the back of the crowd.
Yes, sir! Standing fast,
standing proud, wearing a shawl instead of a shroud.
Abe Lincoln was with
his friends, telling jokes!
I remember him stepping
down on that depot platform with that grin.
I presume you all know
who I am.
I am humble Abe Lincoln.
My politics are short
and sweet, like the old woman’s dance.
“Mr. Lincoln, isn’t it
right that some men
should be masters and
some should be slaves?”
“Brother if G-d intended
some men to do all the work and no eating,
he would have made some
men with all hands and no mouths!”
(Standing tall, standing proud!)
“Well I say: America for
Americans!
What happens on the other
side of the ocean shouldn’t be any skin off our backs.
Isn’t that right Mr.
Lincoln?”
“Well I’ll tell you, Ma’am:
It seems to me the strongest
bond of human sympathy, outside your family, of course,
should be the one uniting
all working people of all nations, tongues, and kindred!”
(wearing a shawl instead of a shroud)
“Somehow, I wouldn’t expect the President of the United States to be such a common man!”
“I think G-d must have loved the common people. He made so many of them!”
“Mr. Lincoln, how does it feel to be President?”
“Old age saying. Well
now, it feels sort like the fellow they run out of town on a rail.
If it wasn’t for the
honor of it, I’d just as soon walk.”
They were his people;
he was their man,
You couldn’t quite tell
where the people left off and where Abe Lincoln began.
A lonesome train on a
lonesome track --
Seven coaches painted
black --
Abe Lincoln had an Illinois
face
and he came out of a
pioneer race.
He knew how hard the
fight would be
and he liked the idea
of being free.
His heart was taut as
a railroad tie,
he was made of stuff
that doesn’t die.
He was made of hopes,
he was made of fears;
he was made to last a
million years.
Freedom’s a thing that
has no ending,
it needs to be cared
for, it needs defending!