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Lightfoot had a lot of good tunes although Fitzgerald is certainly his most haunting. Canadian Railroad Trilogy is another great one about the opening up of the continent to the railway.....

There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run,
when the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel,
then the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
But time has no beginnings and history has no bounds
as to this verdant country they came from all around.
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall,
built the mines the mills and the factories for the good of us all.
And when the young man’s fancy was turning to the spring,
the railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring.
Their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day
and many a fortune lost and won and many a debt to pay.

For they looked in the future and what did they see,
they saw an iron road running from the sea to the sea.
Bringing the goods to a young growing land, all up through the seaports and into their hands.
Look away said they across this mighty land, from the Eastern Shore to the western strand.
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails, we gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart let the lifeblood flow, gotta get on our way ‘cause we’re moving too slow.
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails,
we’re gonna lay down the tracks and tear up the trails.
Open her heart let the lifeblood flow, gotta get on our way ‘cause we’re moving too slow.
Get on our way ‘cause we’re moving too slow.

Behind the blue Rockies the sun is declining the stars, they come stealing at the close of the day.
Across the wide prairie our loved ones lie sleeping beyond the dark oceans in a place far away.
We are the Navvies who work upon the railway, swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun,
living on stew and drinking bad whiskey, bending our old backs ‘til the long days are done.
We are the Navvies who work upon the railway, swinging our hammers in the bright blazing sun.
Laying down track and building the bridges, bending our backs till the railroad is done.

So over the mountains and over the plains into the muskeg and into the rain,
up the St. Lawrence all the way to Gaspe, swinging our hammers and drawing our pay.
Driving ‘em in and tying ‘em down away to the bunkhouse and into the town.
A dollar a day and a place for my head, a drink to the living and a toast to the dead.
Oh, the song of the future has been sung, all the battles have been won,
o’er the mountain tops we stand, all the world at our command,
we have opened up the soil with our teardrops and our toil.

There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run,
when the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun.
Long before the white man and long before the wheel,
then the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
Then the green dark forest was too silent to be real.
And many are the dead men too silent to be real.