Hobo Bill's Last Ride

Ho-bo Bill-y 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 Ho-bo Bill No warm lights flickered round him no blankets there to hold Nothing but the howling wind and the driving rain so cold When he heard a whistle blowing in a dreamy kind of way The hobo seemed contented for he smiled there where he lay Ho-bo Bill Outside the rain was falling on that lonely boxcar door But the little form of Hobo Bill lay still upon the floor While the train sped through the darkness and the raging storm outside