Hobo Bill's Last Ride - Iris Dement
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
He was a lonesome hobo
