Like The 309 - Johnny Cash

It should be a while before I see Dr. Death

So it would sure be nice if I could get my breath

Well I’m not the crying nor the whining kind

Until I hear the whistle of the 309

Of the 309, of the 309

Put me in my box on the 309

Take me to the depot, put me to bed

Blow an electric fan on my gnarly old head

Everybody take a look, see I’m doing fine

Then load my box on the 309

Hey sweet baby, kiss me hard

Draw my bath water, sweep my yard

Give a drink of my wine to my Jersey cow

I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for my journey now

On the 309, on the 309

I hear the sound of a railroad train

The whistle blows and I’m gone again

It will take me higher than a Georgia pine

Stand back children, it’s a 309

A chicken in the pot and turkey in the corn

Ain’t felt this good since jubilee morn

Talk about luck, well I got mine

Asthma coming down like a 309

Write me a letter, sing me a song

Tell me all about it, what I did wrong

Meanwhile I will be doing fine

Then load my box on the 309