Beside the western water tank
One cold November day
Inside an empty box car
a dying hobo lay
His partner sat beside him
with his low and drooping head
Listening to the last words
the dying hobo said
“I’m going to a better land
where everything is bright
where handouts grow on bushes
and you can sleep out every night”.
“Where you don’t even have to work at all
Or even change your socks
And little streams of whisky
come trickling down the rocks.”
“Tell my sweetheart back in Denver
that her face no more I’ll view.
I’m going to jump the fast freight
And that I’m going through.”
“Hark! I hear her whistling.
I must catch her on the fly.
Farewell partner,
It ain’t so hard to die”.
 H is my name · Fri Jun 20, 2008 @ 07:01pm · 0 Comments |
