Текст песни Dying Hobo

The Dying Hobo

Behind a Western water tank a dying hobo lay,
Inside an empty box-car, one cold November day ;
His comrade sat beside him with low and drooping head,
Listening to the dying words this poor dying hobo said.

"I am going to a better land, where everything is bright
Where hand-outs grow on bushes, and you can sleep out every night.
Tell my sweetheart back in Denver no more her face I'll view
For I have caught the fast train and now I'm going through."

"Tell her not to weep for me, no tears in her eyes must lurk,
For I have gone to a land where hoboes don't have to work,
Don't have to work at all, not even have to change your socksUnknown - Dying Hobo - http://ru.motolyrics.com/unknown/dying-hobo-lyrics.html
Where little streams of alcohol come tingling down the rocks.

"Hark! I hear the whistling; I must catch her on the fly
Just one drink of 9-5 booze -it 's not so hard to die."
His voice grew weak, his head fell back, he 's sung his last refrain,
His partner swiped his coat and hat and caught the east-bound train.

A parody of Bingen on the Rhine.
From Folk-Songs of the South, Cox
Recorded by Doc Watson
@hobo @train @death
filename[ DYINHOBO
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY