LYRICS
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It should be a while before I see Dr. DeathSo it would sure be nice if I could get my breathWell I'm not the crying nor the whining kind'Till I hear the whistle of the 309Of the 309, of the 309Put me in my box on the 309Take me to the depot, put me to bedBlow an electric fan on my gnarly old headEverybody take a look, see I'm doing fineThen load my box on the 309On the 309, on the 309Put me in my box on the 309Hey sweet baby, kiss me hardDraw my bath water, sweep my yardGive a drink of my wine to my Jersey cowI wouldn't give a hootin' hell for my journey nowOn the 309, on the 309I hear the sound of a railroad trainThe whistle blows and I'm gone againIt will take me higher than a Georgia pineStand back children, it's a 309Put me in my box on the 309A chicken in the pot and turkey in the cornAin't felt this good since jubilee mornTalk about luck, well I got mineAs me comin' down like a 309Write me a letter, sing me a songTell me all about it, what I did wrongMeanwhile I will be doing fineThen load my box on the 309On the 309, on the 309Goin' to get out of here on the 309
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