Out past Jonesboro, down by the ridge, A freight train derailed just past the bridge. Boxcars split open, spilling goods in the night, Into cold water shining under porch-lights. Sheriff’s car sat with its red light still, As the poor nearby gathered on that hill. No one moved, no one spoke a word, Just the sound of the wind and the morning birds. We called it the Giving Train, Given to us to ease our pain. Hard times met an open hand, Knowing grace must always stand. When the Sherriff said we could, We all walked calmly from where we stood. No one pushed and no one shoved, Black and White both beloved Brand new shoes were such a prize Everyone shared to get their size We traded sheets with matching cases, Just quiet gratitude across our faces We called it the Giving Train, Given to us to ease our pain. Hard times met an open hand, Knowing grace must always stand. No gold or silver could explain, The night we shared the Giving Train. No shouting crowds, no greedy hands, Just neighbors working on common land. We split that bounty fair and plain, Every soul aboard the Giving Train. Kids in new sneakers come September, Warm through winters we still remember. So many years that those gifts gave I'll remember that day to my grave We called it the Giving Train, Given to us to ease our pain. Hard times met an open hand, Knowing grace must always stand. No gold or silver could explain, The night we shared the Giving Train. Now it’s Black Friday and people shove, For things they’ll never truly love. But I still see that hill, those people, in the rain, And the gentle hands from the Giving Train. So if you’re blessed, then pass it on, The way we did when times were gone. ’Cause hearts still shine through loss and pain If you'll remember the Giving Train.
