Hobo on the Road
By John Herlihy

I was goin’ down the road feeling plum bad,
Countin’ on my rosary the tribulations I had.
I tucked them into my hip pocket for a rainy day;
Today’s sun suggests I had nothin’ extra to pay.
The sky’s blue filled my heart to clear my mood;
With cloudy days acomin’, time enough to brood.

Walking along feeling free put working in the shade;
Why shucks, every road comes upon a steep grade.
Just wanted to escape, get away, escape the mire;
I would walk off a cliff to run from the house on fire.
I still have a hunger inside with its insistence of must;
This hunger sometimes conveys to me a sense of trust.

Who can account for all our desire worth explainin’;
They rouse the stomach seeking ways for complainin’.
I have occupied street corners beside an overturned hat,
Collecting my lunch money, just smiling where I sat.
A hobo on the road sometimes finds others to listen,
When the rains come, the macadam begins to glisten.

Death the only promise truly kept at the end of the road;
All my emotions now gone, my heart ready to explode.
Beyond the horizon but quiet calm and eternal rest;
Sittin’ there listenin’ to the harps of angels with the best.
No landlord, no alimony, no wayward kids to be fed;
Time frozen like a rose in winter with no worry or dread.

Whether rain or shine, behind every corner a thing lurkin’;
These prayer beads I’ve been fingerin’ must be sure workin’.
I’ve been walkin’ a lifetime in these faithful old shoes;
Ain’t no one tells a tale better of life and its moody blues.
I feel there is somethin’ ‘ bout me; I have a story to tell;
I hope to make you believe it a tale worth to listen as well.