The Santa Fe At Midnight

look at that headlight shining through the rain
it must be that old Santa Fe freight train

I’m standing on Salteo tile on an old adobe porch
across the street the Baptist church, God’s own neon torch
well my baby's sleeping safe inside, I’m the shadow she’s the light
now here comes the sound of the Santa Fe at midnight
Baby wakes up and calls to me: “what is that lonesome sound?
it echoes off the mountains out near the lights of town”
and I say, “hush now, I come to you and hold you so tight
and rock you to the sound of the Santa Fe at midnight”
blowing through those cotton fields
near the Cana’tior river breaks
past the shanty towns of old Juarez
the eagle and the snake
blowing across West Texas, rattling out of sight
the music of the Santa Fe at midnight
making love to the sound of the Santa Fe at midnight

well look where we have ended up on the edge of the great southwest
staring at those restless trees along the water's edge
and up the street the Rio Grande like Egypt’s old Blue Nile
with the memory of the early ones who rested here a while
now the freight trains and the log haul trucks, they’re passing through
they don’t have the urge to wink at the likes of me and you
it’s all just diesel smoke, iron rail and a running string of lights
the music of the Santa Fe at midnight
blowing through those cotton fields
near the Cana’tior river breaks
past the shanty towns of old Juarez
the eagle and the snake
blowing across West Texas, rattling out of sight
the music of the Santa Fe at midnight
making love to the sound of the Santa Fe at midnight

--Tom Russell