The Hobos Last Ride

One dark and stormy night while riding down the line

Railroad Bill the engineer said boy we’ll have to fly

We’ve got to be on time to meet old Number Four

So sling the coal we’ll make it boy or never ride no more

While in the rear boxcar a lonely hobo lay

Heading for his mother dear who on her death-bed lay

He raised a weary hand to brush away a tear

Not knowing his last drive was run and fate was drawing near

When through the darkened night a headlight bright did gleam

Above the roar of rolling wheels a whistle loud did scream

As down around the curve the mighty train did roar

With black smoke rolling from the stack came Flyer Number Four

Then came an awful crash their last long drive was run

There on the track the hobo lay his days of life were done

And as the golden sun sank slowly to the west

His dear old mother gently smiled and closed her eyes in death