Tonight as I lay on the boxcar Just waiting for a train to pass by What will become of the hobo When his time comes to die There's a master up yonder in heaven Got a place that we might call our home Will we have to work for a living Or can we continue to roam Will there be any freight trains in heaven Any boxcars in which we might hide Will there by any tough cops or brakemen Will they tell us that we cannot ride
Will the hobo chum with the rich man Will we always have money to spare Will they have respect for the hobo In that land that lies up there
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