Riding east-bound freight train, stealing through the night He was just a lonesome hobo who was fighting for his life The sadness in his eyes revealed the torture of his soul as he raised a weak and weary hand to brush away the cold
Outside the rain is falling on that lonely boxcar door, but the little frame of Hobo Bill lay still upon the floor As the train sped through the darkness and the raging storm outside no one knew that Hobo Bill was taking his last ride
He was a lonesome hobo
No warm lights flickered 'round him no blankets were there to fold There was nothing but the howling wind and the driving rain so cold As he heard a whistle blowing in a dreamy kind of way the hobo seemed contented for he smiled there where he lay
It was early in the morning when they raised the hobo's head the smile still lingered on his face, though Hobo Bill was dead There was no one there to weep for him or soothe his weary soul for he was just a hobo who had died out in the cold
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Copy to Clipboard: Riding east-bound freight train, stealing through the night He was just a lonesome hobo who was fighting for his life The sadness in his eyes revealed the torture of his soul as he raised a weak and weary hand to brush away the cold
Outside the rain is falling on that lonely boxcar door, but the little frame of Hobo Bill lay still upon the floor As the train sped through the darkness and the raging storm outside no one knew that Hobo Bill was taking his last ride
He was a lonesome hobo
No warm lights flickered 'round him no blankets were there to fold There was nothing but the howling wind and the driving rain so cold As he heard a whistle blowing in a dreamy kind of way the hobo seemed contented for he smiled there where he lay
It was early in the morning when they raised the hobo's head the smile still lingered on his face, though Hobo Bill was dead There was no one there to weep for him or soothe his weary soul for he was just a hobo who had died out in the cold
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