Wanna, wanna, Lackawanna.
King of all Railroads, Lackawanna.
Very great, and very old
Uses ties of purest gold.
Rails of silver, spikes of brass.
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Ballast clean and smooth as glass.
With a muffied rolling rearing. Like a giant bird in flight.
Mountains, forests, fields and rivers, ghost-like whisper through the night.
Then a voice low, strange and mystic calls, ere comes the morning sun.
"Where's the porter? Damn the beggar.
Gad, I'll kill the son of a gun!
Chorus:
Lacka, lacka, wanna wacka
Take you there and bring you back-a.
Speed, dispatch and great precision
Chugging on its mighty mission.
Cunningham, the Bard of Rails
Says, "Lackawanna never fails."