The Dying Hobo
Travis B. Hale & E J Derry, Jr
Honking Duck
November 14, 2008
Banjo tuned E capo 1, Key D
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Behind a Western water tank a dying hobo lay,
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Inside an empty box-car, one cold November day ;
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His comrade sat beside him with low and drooping head,
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Listening to the dying words this poor dying hobo said.
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"I am going to a better land, where everything is bright
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Where hand-outs grow on bushes, and you can sleep out every night.
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Tell my sweetheart back in Denver no more her face I'll view
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For I have caught the fast train and now I'm going through."
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"Tell her not to weep for me, no tears in her eyes must lurk,
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For I have gone to a land where hoboes don't have to work,
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Don't have to work at all, not even have to change your socks
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Where little streams of alcohol come tingling down the rocks.
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"Hark! I hear the whistling; I must catch her on the fly
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Just one drink of 9-5 booze -it 's not so hard to die."
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His voice grew weak, his head fell back, he 's sung his last
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refrain,
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His partner swiped his coat and hat and caught the east-bound train.
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Ahhhha Men