The Train That Took My Girl From Town - Frank Fairfield

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The Train That Took My Girl From Town Lyrics

Tennessee raised Alabama bound
If the girl leave me gonna move from town
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train carried my girl from town

Where were you when the train left town
I was standing on the corner with head hung down
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train carried my girl from town

Rations on the table and the coffee's gettin' cold
Some old rambler stole my jelly roll
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train carried my girl from town


I was going to the depot

See that girl, won't you bring her back
She got her fingers in my money sack
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train carried my girl from town

Ain't that the train that carried my girl from town
If I had her number Lord I'd sure flag it down
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train, hey, hey, hey, hey

Won't you here that whistle blowin'

I wish to the Lord that train would wreck
Kill the engineer, break the fireman's neck
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train carried my girl from town

See that train Lord I'd run down the track
Call ? with my girl ? back
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train carried my girl from town

Oh it gone with her now


Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Show me a woman that a boy can trust
Hey, Lord ain't that passing train that carried my girl from town

Oh it's gone, almost gone

Lyrics provided by LyricsEver.com

You can call him a traditionalist. But we wont. You can call him nostalgic. But we wont.

He is Frank Fairfield. A musician. A Banjo picker. A fiddle hummer. A song singer. We’ve heard him described as someone who was discovered at a farmers market out in California, as if he were some long lost treasure or mythical land. As we see it, it isn’t some deep yearning for a time long forgotten that drives Frank Fairfield, he isn’t trying to be something that no longer exists, because in fact, he DOES exist. The music he plays, creates, performs is the music that carried all of us, from all over the world, to the place (wherever that place may be) we are now. He plays the American landscape, the one he himself sees and experiences. He goes about it with the only tools necessary, as any good craftsman would. Its not some ship filled with Spanish doubloons, or some ancient Amazon city of Gold, its Frank Fairfield. A musician. A Banjo picker. A man not competing with time, only living in his own. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.

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Frank Fairfield