Old No. 666

Mournful whistle. A Hell bound train

In the distant fog and the bitter cold rain

Bearing down upon the track

Billowing clouds from its black smoke stack

Clang of the bell, demon from Hell

Reddened Monster, I’m under its spell

Thunder is its wheels roaring down the rail

Passengers of the dead, ghostly, white and pail

Beckons to me as I lay in my bed

Call of the Reaper, I think I am dead

“Ticket,” says he, with a grisly smile

“We leave from this station in a little while.”

“Next stop Damnation,” he tells me as he grins

“Your ticket says to Hell, for your Earthly sins”

Away we all head to the pits of Hades

Crumbling old men, decaying ladies

Cursed be my fate

A passenger of the late

Body so cold

Corpse of the old

So if you hear a whistle coming your way

Look to the Lord, kneel down and pray…

That this time…

The train…

Passes you by!