I had just moved from Pocatello to Boise in 1993. It was just a few days before Christmas and I didn't know a soul in town. This was the beginning of a new chapter in my life. I had been many places, with many people, but now, I was starting over again. The winter cold was unbroken, and I wrote this in about 10 minutes.

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Riding on the midnight train from Boise

Outside the winter wind, it moans and wails

out a lonely tune for travelers on a cold December night

It’s muffled between the sound of sliding rails


Five hundred miles from those that I call family

Ten thousand miles from places I call home

And that lonely whistle blowing, it’s enough to make a grown man cry

‘cause there ain’t nothing like the sound of all alone.


In the distant lights I see Pocatello

but somewhere between the midnight and the dawn

I‘ll take another shot of whiskey, just to help me pass the time

‘cause there ain’t no stops ahead on this train I’m on.