Seven soldiers shown the door,
Two for two, but one had more.
The oldest one had gone before,
Her lies were made the stuff of lore.

If any then could truly see,
What came before or where they’d be,
Not one was there to to speak to me,
To show the lies that I would see.

Evansville, a little town
Was built by hand, and called our own.
And anywhere trains took the track,
They traveled far but came right back.

Unyielding bridge or exhausting hill,
A fearsome tunnel challenged still,
The love that built the town was true
So trains came home to comfort you.

And then one day a vicious wind,
Came up from down where devils live,
Without regard for all our toil,
And ripped the town up from the soil.

No matter how much love it showed,
The town was gone, the train was slowed.
The tracks go nowhere still today,
And unforgiven stay that way.