DEAR SUN SPOTS: Years ago, I heard a song about a train, “The Wreck of Old No. 9.” It’s supposed to be a true story, starting something like, “On a dark, stormy night, not a star was in sight, and the north wind was howling down the line.” I would like to know the rest of the words. — No Name, Norway

ANSWER: Some of the most eerily captivating songs about trains involve the disasters that, during the early days of mass transportation, must have seemed particularly spectacular to those who witnessed or heard about a tragic train derailment. Ballads about train wrecks were often loosely based on true events. But in the spirit of folk tradition, artists’ interpretations have altered the original tunes over spans of decades, which can sometimes make pinpointing the event for which the song was written, or even who actually wrote the original version of the tune, difficult at best. At least two online references claim that this particular tune was not actually based on a true event.

Sun Spots researched “The Wreck of Number Nine” and found credits to Carson Robison for writing the song in 1927. It gained popularity when legendary country music singer Jim Reeves recorded it in the 1960s. Here are the lyrics, though note, some versions of the original song have it beginning, “On a cold winter’s night…”

One dark stormy night not a star was in sight;
The North wind came howling down the line.
There stood a brave engineer with his sweetheart so dear;
And his orders to pull old Number Nine.

She kissed him goodbye with a tear in her eye;
The joy in his heart he couldn’t hide.
The whole world seemed right for she told him that night;
That tomorrow she’d be his blushing bride.

The wheels hummed a song as the train rolled along;
The black smoke came pouring from the stack,
The headlight a-gleam seemed to brighten his dream;
Of tomorrow when he’d be goin’ back.

He sped around the hill and his brave heart stood still;
The headlight was shining in his face.
He whispered a prayer as he threw on the air;
For he knew this would be his final race.

In the wreck he was found lying there on the ground;
He asked them to raise his weary head.
His breath slowly went as this message he sent;
To a maiden who thought she would be wed.

“There’s a little white home that I built for our own;
Where I dreamed we’d be happy, you and I.
But I leave it to you for I know you’ll be true;
Til we meet at the Golden Gate, goodbye.”

Use the QR code to go to Sun Spots online for additional information and links. This column is for you, our readers. It is for your questions and comments. There are only two rules: You must write to the column and sign your name (we won’t use it if you ask us not to). Please include your phone number. Letters will not be returned or answered by mail, and telephone calls will not be accepted. Your letters will appear as quickly as space allows. Address them to Sun Spots, P.O. Box 4400, Lewiston, ME 04243-4400. Inquiries can be emailed to sunspots@sunjournal.com, tweeted @SJ_SunSpots or posted on the Sun Spots Facebook page at facebook.com/SunJournalSunSpots. This column can also be read online at sunjournal.com/sunspots. We’ve joined Pinterest at http://pinterest.com/sj_sunspots.


Only subscribers are eligible to post comments. Please subscribe or login first for digital access. Here’s why.

Use the form below to reset your password. When you've submitted your account email, we will send an email with a reset code.

filed under: