The railroads, and the riverboats, that bred the mighty man

That we read about, and we dream about

The men who built this land

And the farmers and the lumbermen and the men who worked the mills

And the poor hard working miners

Who died inside the hills



While the rivers that flow

Are the blood of our land

And the trucks they keep rumbling

On the great concrete band

And the railroads keep pushing

To be all they once were

And nature is calling

No one's listening to her



And the immigrants, by the boat load, in a dozen different tones

Sang of freedom, in the new land

Climbed the ladder rung by rung

Some to Boston, some to Pittsburg, Philidelphia and St. Paul

And the old ways, led to new days

They were welcome one and all.



While the rivers that flow

Are the blood of our land

And the trucks they keep rumbling

On the great concrete band

And the railroads keep pushing

To be all they once were

And nature is calling

No one's listening to her



With the railroads, and the riverboats, and the bread lines far behind

And the days we sang together

Long gone but still in mind

And the men who, came before us, men who brought us to today

And the story, still unravels, from the dreams of yesterday



While the rivers that flow

Are the blood of our land

And the trucks they keep rumbling

On the great concrete band

And the railroads keep pushing

To be all they once were

And nature is calling

No one's listening to her

And nature is calling,

No one's listening to her