At the end of summer we set off like trains
In the humid, hot weather walking, no sign of ran we rolled
About thirty miles, stopping only for barley water
Three sons of parents and another pair of parent’s daughters
Walking down the tracks
Walking down the tracks
Walking down the tracks
Walking down the tracks
Smoke from the forest fires, filled up the air
While we jumped in the lake tired, in our underwear
And then kept traveling on, upon trestles through the darkness
The full moon glowing orange, in the woods we found a spot to rest
On the tracks
Walking on the tracks
Walking on the tracks
Walking on the tracks
Oh, that old-time feeling of walking without a care
All them natural joys and fears do rise and raise our hair
Walking on the tracks
Walking on the tracks
Walking on the tracks
Walking on the tracks
Walking down the tracks
Walking down the tracks
Walking down the tracks
Walking down the tracks
