Lyrics:

PART 1:
I woke up this mornin', four o'clock.
Mister Casey told his fireman, get his boiler hot.
Put on your water, put on your coal.
Put your head out of the window, see my drivers roll.
See my driver roll.
Put your head out of the window, see my driver roll.

Lord, some people say that Mister Casey couldn't run.
Let me just tell you what Mister Casey done.
He left Memphis, it was quarter to nine.
Got to Newport News, it was dinnertime.
It was dinnertime.
Got to Newport News, it was dinnertime.

I've sold my gin, I've sold it straight.
Police run me to my woman's gate.
She comes to the door, she nod her head.
She made me welcome to the foldin' bed.
To the foldin' bed.
Made me welcome to the foldin' bed.

Lord, the people said to Casey 'You're runnin' over time.'
'You'll have another loser with the one-o-nine.'
Casey said, 'This ain't in mind.
I'll run it in close just to make my time.'
Said to all the passengers, 'Better keep yourself hid
Naturally gonna shake it like Chainey did.'
Like Chainey did.
Naturally gonna shake it like Chainey did.

Mister Casey run his engine within a mile of the place.
Number four stared him in the face.
The depot told Casey, 'Well, you must leave town.'
'Believe to my soul I'm Alabama bound.'
'Alabama bound.'
'Believe to my soul I'm Alabama bound.'

Missus Casey said she dreamt a dream,
The night she bought her sewin' machine.
The needle got broke, she could not sew.
She loved Mister Casey, 'cause she told me so.
Told me so.
Loved Mister Casey, 'cause she told me so.

There was a woman name Miss Alice Fry.
Said, 'I'm gonna ride with Mister Casey 'fore I die.
I ain't good looking but I take my time.
A rambling woman with a rambling mind.
Got a rambling mind.'

PART 2:
Casey looked at his water, water was low.
Looked at his watch, his watch was slow.

On the road again.
Natural born Eastman on the road again.

Lord, there's people tell by the throttle moan,
The man at the fire's Mister Casey Jones.
Mister Casey Jones.

Mister Casey said, before he died,
One more road that he wants to ride.
People tells Casey, 'Which road is he?'
'The Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe.
Santa Fe.'

This mornin' I heard someone was dyin'.
Missus Casey's children on the doorstep cryin'.
Mama, mama, I can't keep from cryin',
Papa got killed on the Southern line.
On the Southern line.
Papa got killed on the Southern line.

'Mama, mama, how can it be?
Killed my father and you weren't the first to grieve?'
'Children, children want you to hold your breath.
Draw another pension from your father's death.
From your father's death.'

On the road again.
I'm a natural born Eastman on the road again.

Tuesday mornin', it looked like rain.
Around the curve came a passenger train.
Under the boiler lay Mister Casey Jones.
Good old engineer, but he's dead and gone.
Dead and gone.

On the road again.
I'm a natural born Eastman on the road again.

I left Memphis to spread the news.
Memphis women don't wear no shoes.
Had it written in the back of my shirt,
Natural born Eastmen don't have to work.
Don't have to work.
I'm a natural born Eastman, don't have to work.