Tonight as I lay on the boxcar

Just waiting for a train to pass by

What will become of the hobo

When his time comes to die

There's a 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 by any tough cops or brakemen

Will they tell us that we cannot ride



Will the hobo chum with the rich man

Will we always have money to spare

Will they have respect for the hobo

In that land that lies up there



Repeat Chorus