Old hobo Joe would ride the rails ~ many ~ many a mile.
Ever so often ~ stop at a little town, and work for awhile.
Old Joe took to the rail ~ when his true love died ...
He'd just ride the rails and cry ~ to get away and hide.
He saw the beauty of the world as an old hobo ...
Looking at he mountains ~ and down in the valley below.
Couldn't quite get a grip ~ on the pain in his heart,
From the loss of his lifetime love ~ his only sweetheart.
At times he'd stop at little towns, and work for awhile,
Until he'd get that lonesome ~ longing, to see her smile ...
Then the trains ~ he'd hop on again, to hide from life.
So hard at times ~ to hide from the struggling strife.
Summers, were so hot in the cars ~ he could hardly breathe ...
Just simmer, and suffer ~ and sometimes. seethe.
But winter was worse ~ the cold was hard to bare ...
His feet would freeze ~ and sometimes snow on his hair.
There were beautiful places to go ~ and to learn of the land ...
But it was a hard life ~ old hobo Joe had taken in hand.
Many times he wanted to go back ~ see if maybe she was there.
Maybe someone, would come along ~ to make him care ....
About life ~ he had a home to go to ~ didn't have to live like this ...
So why was he riding the trains ~ not living in bliss?
One day he would go back ~ old hobo Joe ~ just look around, rejoice
Maybe if he couldn't see her ~ he could hear her voice. |
