Hobo’s Last Ride

Young Hobo Joe and old Downtown Moe

Jumped a freight car headed West

With old grain bags and discard rags

They made themselves a cozy nest

The clicked-clack of the railway track

The sweet vagabonds lullaby

Miles seemed to disappear without a care

Until Joe heard Moe’s mournful sigh

Drank cheap wine for a buck and a dime

Dulled memories sealed in glass

The night wore on and before too long

Moe’s story was told with time to pass

Well listen Hobo Joe, before I have to go

There’s something you don’t know

You’ve been a friend, right to the end

But now it’s checkout time for old Downtown Moe

And if I should die, please do not cry

And in pain once more he sighs

But in the boot, of this crazy old coot

You’ll find a small surprise

Old Moe died that night, before dawn’s light

His head cradled in Joe’s lap

And in the boot of that old coot

Was the prize concealed in oil skin wrap

The letter did begin... The Downtown Inn

Does now belong to you

Old Downtown Moe, had one friend I know

So now I bid my friend adieu

Young Hobo Joe buried old Downtown Moe

Along the Canadian Pacific railway track

Then he said goodbye, with tear in eye

For he knew he’d ne’er come back.