[Verse 1] The iron rail is biting through the heart of the divide, There’s nowhere for the slow-coach and the hesitant to hide. The Howell’s printing tickets and the ledger’s full of freight, We’re riding on the pressure of a steam-filled, roaring fate. The Howey stallion’s standing in the shadow of the shed, With a fire in the furnace and a whistle overhead. We’ve traded in the mud-path for the straight and narrow line, Turning all the chaos into something by design. [Chorus] Faster than the gallop, screaming down the track, There’s no use in looking or in ever turning back. The Howell keeps the schedule, the Howey feeds the fire, Building up the nation on a wire and a tire. The ink and the acre, the iron and the steam, We’re powering the engine of the American dream. The distance is collapsing and the world is growing small, We’re answering the thunder of the locomotive call. [Verse 2] The Howell is the station master, counting every load, Watching all the commerce on the new and iron road. The Howey is the engineer, with soot upon his face, Managing the limit of the wild and frantic pace. The telegraph is buzzing with the news of price and gold, With secrets of the market that are waiting to be told. We’re stringing up the wires and we’re laying down the steel, Driven by the revolution of the turning wheel. [Chorus] Faster than the gallop, screaming down the track, There’s no use in looking or in ever turning back. The Howell keeps the schedule, the Howey feeds the fire, Building up the nation on a wire and a tire. The ink and the acre, the iron and the steam, We’re powering the engine of the American dream. The distance is collapsing and the world is growing small, We’re answering the thunder of the locomotive call. [Bridge] The country is a map that we are sketching with the coal, Stretching out the limits of the Howell-Howey soul. They say that time is money, and we’re spending it like grain, Watching all the scenery go blurring past the train. We are the mechanics of the progress and the light, Fighting off the shadows of the long and lonely night. The steam is rising higher, and the pressure’s in the gauge, We’re turning over quickly to a new and heavy page. [Verse 3] The evening is a blur of light against the darkened glass, Watching all the homesteads and the wooden fences pass. The seventeenth song is a rhythm of the piston and the rod, A testament to industry that’s rising from the sod. The Howell closes ledger books and puts them in the bin, While Howey watches sparks of fire coming from within. The train is slowing down toward the city of the West, Putting all our legacy to yet another test. [Chorus] Faster than the gallop, screaming down the track, There’s no use in looking or in ever turning back. The Howell keeps the schedule, the Howey feeds the fire, Building up the nation on a wire and a tire. The ink and the acre, the iron and the steam, We’re powering the engine of the American dream. The distance is collapsing and the world is growing small, We’re answering the thunder of the locomotive call. [Outro] The whistle screams its final note, the engine starts to cool, We’ve learned the modern lesson in the industrial school. The Howell is the rhythm, the Howey is the speed, With the iron and the telegraph to meet the growing need. The seventeenth part is written in the smoke, As we throw off the heavy and the agrarian yoke.
