There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run,
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun,
Long before the white man and long before the wheel,
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
But time has no beginnings and history has no bounds,
As to this verdant country they came from all around.
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forest tall,
Built the mines, mills, and the factories for the good of us all.
And when the young man's fancy was turnin' to the spring,
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring.
Their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day,
And many a fortune lost and won and many a debt to pay.
For they looked to1 the future and what did they see?
They saw an iron road runnin' from the sea to the sea,
Bringin' the goods to a young growin' land
All up from the seaports and into their hand.
Look away said they across this mighty land,
From the eastern shore to the western strand.
Bring in workers and bring up the rails.
We gotta lay down tracks and tear up the trails.
Open yer2 heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cause we're movin' too slow.
Bring in workers and bring up the rails.
We're gonna lay down tracks and tear up the trails.
Open yer heart, let the life blood flow.
Gotta get on our way 'cause we're movin' too slow.
Get on our way 'cause we're movin' too slow.
Behind the blue Rockies the sun is declinin'.
The stars they come stealin' at the close of the day.
Across the wide prairie our loved ones lie sleeping
Beyond the dark oceans in a place far away.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway,
Swingin' our hammers in the bright blazin' sun,
Livin' on stew and drinkin' bad whiskey,
Bendin' our backs till the long days are done.
We are the navvies who work upon the railway,
Swingin' our hammers in the bright blazin' sun,
Layin' down track and buildin' the bridges,
Bendin' our backs till the railroad is done.
So over the mountains and over the plains,
Into the muskeg and into the rains,
Up the Saint Lawrence all the way to Gaspé,
Swingin' our hammers and drawin' our pay.
Layin' 'em in and tyin' 'em down,
Away to the bunkhouse and into the town,
A dollar a day and a place for my head,
A drink to the livin', a toast to the dead.
Oh the song of the future has been sung.
All the battles have been won.
On the mountaintops we stand,
All the world at our command.
We have opened up the soil
With our teardrops and our toil.
Oh there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run,
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun,
Long before the white man and long before the wheel,
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
And many are the dead men . . .3
Too silent . . .
To be real.
1. I listened to this line at least a dozen times while doing this transcription, not to mention the countless times in my life that I've heard this song, and I still can't quite tell whether he says "to" here or "in." "To" would be the more idiomatic usage but this is a poem so . . .2. Slangy way of saying "your"3. In performance, he usually hesitates for an inordinately long pause here, much longer than what he originally recorded. Invariably, a few newbies in the audience begin to clap. Maybe he does this just to catch them out.