Hobo Bill

Riding on that eastbound freight train

Speeding through the night

Hobo Bill a railroad bum

Was fighting for his life

The sadness of his eyes revealed

The torture of his soul

He raised a weak and weary hand

To brush away the cold

Hobo Bill Hobo Bill

Outside the rain was falling on

That lonely boxcar door

But the little form of Hobo Bill lay

Still upon the floor

There was no mother's longing

To soothe his weary soul

For he was just a railroad bum

Who died out in the cold

Hobo Bill

Hobo Bill - Merle Haggard