Tonight as I lay on a boxcar Just waiting for a train to pass by What will become of the hobo Whenever that time comes to die
Has the Master up yonder in heaven Got a place that we might call our home Will we have to work for a living Or can we continue to roam
Will there be any freight trains in heaven Any boxcars in which we might hide Will there be any tough cops and brakemen Will they tell us we cannot ride
Will the hobo chum with the rich man Will we always have money to spare Will they have respect for a hobo In the land that lies hidden up there