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Lyrics

​(Verse 1)
From the iron works of Liege to the dust of Chihli plain
I followed the steam and the promise of gain
A Belgian boy with a wrench and a dream
To link up the world with a piston of steam
I was driving the spikes near the Tartar Wall
Before the world started to crumble and fall
Now the tracks are all twisted, the engines are cold
And I’m trading my youth for a story untold.
​(Chorus)
And I’m standing in line with a Martini-Henry
The smoke is so thick that it’s hard to see
I used to build bridges, now I’m digging the trench
In the heat of the Peking, in the powder and stench
From the banks of the Meuse to the Legation gate
A railroad man grappling with a soldier’s fate.
​(Verse 2)
They promised us peace and a worker’s wage
But the Boxers arose in a whirlwind of rage
The telegraph's cut and the supply lines are gone
We’re bracing for shadows before every dawn
This rifle is heavy, it kicks like a mule
It’s a different kind of a craftsman’s tool
The brass is all hot and the barrel is black
And there ain't no steam engine to carry us back.
​(Chorus)
And I’m standing in line with a Martini-Henry
The smoke is so thick that it’s hard to see
I used to build bridges, now I’m digging the trench
In the heat of the Peking, in the powder and stench
From the banks of the Meuse to the Legation gate
A railroad man grappling with a soldier’s fate.
​(Bridge)
I dream of the cafes and the soft summer rain
The sound of a whistle on a passenger train
But the fire-tipped arrows are lighting the night
And we’re down to the bayonet, ready to fight
Fifty-five days in this circle of hell
Waiting for the ringing of the rescue bell.
​(Guitar Solo - Gritty, Slide Blues)
​(Verse 3)
The brickwork is shattered, the sandbags are torn
We’re weary and ragged and travel-worn
But I’ll hold this position, I’ll stay on the track
‘Til the relief column comes and we push ‘em all back
My hands are all calloused from hammers and lead
Between the living and the rows of the dead.
​(Chorus)
And I’m standing in line with a Martini-Henry
The smoke is so thick that it’s hard to see
I used to build bridges, now I’m digging the trench
In the heat of the Peking, in the powder and stench
From the banks of the Meuse to the Legation gate
A railroad man grappling with a soldier’s fate.
​(Outro)
Lay the track... ( Martini-Henry fire )
Hold the line...
A Belgian man... far from home...
Just a railroad man... in the Peking sun...
(Fade out with a single, lonely harmonica wail and the sound of a distant steam whistle)