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Lyrics
[Chorus]
(Full group vocals - loud and shouting)
Run, boy, run till the grease turns cold
The law is on the iron and they’re hunting for the gold
You laid him on the sleeper with a hammer in his chest
Now there ain't no station where a killer’s gonna rest!
(Double clap-clap)
No, there ain't no station where a killer’s gonna rest!
[Verse 1]
(Clapping stops abruptly - total silence except for a low, humming bass note)
Foreman Miller was a man with a heart like a rusted spike.
He’d work you through the fever and he’d take whatever he’d like.
He called me a dog in the gravel, he spat on my brother’s name,
So I swung that twelve-pound driver and I ended his greedy game.
He didn't make a sound—just the wind coming out of his lungs.
[Chorus]
(Clapping and stomping kick back in full force)
Run, boy, run till the grease turns cold
The law is on the iron and they’re hunting for the gold
You laid him on the sleeper with a hammer in his chest
Now there ain't no station where a killer’s gonna rest!
(Double clap-clap)
No, there ain't no station where a killer’s gonna rest!
[Verse 2]
(Music drops out again - isolated vocals)
The steam-whistle screamed like a woman when it saw what I had done.
I didn't grab my paycheck, I just grabbed my coat and run.
My boots are full of cinders and my lungs are full of coal,
I sold my life to the railroad, and the railroad took my soul.
I can hear the hounds a-baying down by the switching yard.
[Chorus]
(Loud clapping and stomping)
Run, boy, run till the grease turns cold
The law is on the iron and they’re hunting for the gold
You laid him on the sleeper with a hammer in his chest
Now there ain't no station where a killer’s gonna rest!
(Double clap-clap)
No, there ain't no station where a killer’s gonna rest!
[Bridge]
(Fast, frantic banjo solo over steady clapping)
(Voice chanting in the background: “Left-foot, right-foot, tie-to-tie”)
[Verse 3]
(Music stops - vocal is almost a whisper)
The Northbound’s coming through the pass, I see the yellow eye.
If I don't catch the ladder, I’m a-gonna surely die.
But my hands are slick with Miller’s blood and the steel is wet with rain...
(Pause)
I missed the grip. I felt the slip. I hear the screaming train.
[Chorus]
(Final explosive chorus - maximum volume)
Run, boy, run till the grease turns cold
The law is on the iron and they’re hunting for the gold
You laid him on the sleeper with a hammer in his chest
Now there ain't no station where a killer’s gonna rest!
(Double clap-clap)
[Outro]
(Clapping slows down... tap... tap...)
(Sound of a train fading in the distance)
No rest...
(Final heavy stomp)
Details
GeneratedFeb 2, 2026
Duration2:59
LanguageEnglish
Style
Dark Bluegrass, Work Song, Heavy Hand-Claps, Stomping Feet, Solo Gritty Baritone Vocal
Credits
Prompt by
HamCheck
HamCheckModelAria v5
