Hobo Bill's Last Ride

Riding on the eastbound freight train speeding through the night

Hobo Bill the railroad bum was fighting for his life

And the sadness of his eyes revealed the torture of his soul

He raised a weak and weary hand to brush away the coal.

No warm lights flickered round him no blankets there to hold

Nothing but the howling wind the driving rain so cold

When he heard a whistle blowing in a dreamy kind of way

The hobo seemed contented for he smile there where he lay.

Hey ho-bo Bill.

Outside the rain was falling on the lonely boxcar door

But the little form of Hobo Bill lay dead upon the floor

While the train sped through the darkness with the raging storm outside

No one knew that Hobo Bill was taking his last ride

Hey ho-bo Bill...