Rambling Hobo

Just a mile west of the water tank
On a cold November day
In a cold and lonesome box car
A dyin hobo lay
His pal sat there before him
With a low and drooping head
Listening to the last words
His dying buddy said
Goodbye old pardner hobo
I hate to say goodbye
But I hear my train a comin
And I know shes getting nigh
Gonna tell that old conductor
Just when I’m gonna stop
Where the little stream of water
Comes tumblin down the rock
We rode the rocks together
We rambled all around
In every kind of weather
We slept out on the ground
Oh pardner don’t you miss that train
That always makes a stop
Where the little stream of water
Comes tumblin down the rock
Would you tell my girl from Danville
That she need not worry a tall
I’m a goin to that country
Where I won’t have to work at all
No I wll not have to work there
Or never change my socks
Where the little stream of water
Comes tumblin down the rocks
I’m a goin to that better place
Where everything is right
Where handouts grow on bushes
And they sleep out every night
I won’t have to wash my overhauls
Or never change my socks
Where the little stream of water
Comes tumblin down the rocks