They tell the story, about that train,
on his trip that day, where was it,
he was down in Alabama, miles away.
In 1863, when John Wilkinson
Booth shot Abraham Lincoln,
They carried the news from Washington
with a pistol bled to the head
You may bury me in the east,
you may bury me in the west
But I'll hear that trumpet
Yes, yes, in the morning,
I come to you in a holiness
to tell you just how he died.
He was lying there in his
And while he was lying there,
the sun rose and recognized him
and closed his step inside,
Yes, and the sun went down,
and he went down in the morning, yes,
and while he was lying there,
over the battlements of glory
and come down to get him.
Ah, just when they got near him, he rose.
Ah, he rose and walked back
he walked back down among his people.
It ain't no riding horse down
It ain't no bagpipers down there.
No liars can go, and no cheaters can go,
it's no debit to detain us,
He said you may bury me in the east,
you may bury me in the west,
but I'll hear that trumpet sound
That it's a news from Washington,
with a filter blast to the head.