You know hoboes are my heroes
They don’t ever pay no bills.
They like to ride around
Rolling down those rusty rails.
Take a gander, There’s the Rambler
With a stogie and a stingy brim,
And his spit-shined shoes
He’s looking sharp for the shape he’s in.
With a pick-lock in his coin sock
The hobo always finds a way
To take just what he needs
So’s to live another day.
Hop a ride, Hop a ride (x2)
You can always hop a ride
When the wolf is at your door.
You know hoboes are my heroes
With their bindlesticks in their hands.
They’re just old souls roamin’,
Dreamin’ of the Promised Land.
Watch your backs, boys, watch your backs
And buddy keep your head down low,
Cause there’s a bull in the switchyard
With a loaded .44.
Hear that high lonesome call
Of the wild howlin’ in the morn.
That’s just a freight train whistle
Hollerin’ “Hobo, can’t ya come?”
In the morning, in the evening
And even when the sun goes down,
There’s a man without a home
Ever-yearnin’ homeward bound.

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