Rambling Hobo - Doc Watson

Just a mile west of the water tank

On a cold November day

In a cold and lonesome box car

A dyin hobo lay

His pal sat there before him

With a low and drooping head

Listening to the last words

His dying buddy said

Goodbye old pardner hobo

I hate to say goodbye

But I hear my train a comin

And I know shes getting nigh

Gonna tell that old conductor

Just when I’m gonna stop

Where the little stream of water

Comes tumblin down the rock

We rode the rocks together

We rambled all around

In every kind of weather

We slept out on the ground

Oh pardner don’t you miss that train

That always makes a stop

Where the little stream of water

Comes tumblin down the rock

Would you tell my girl from Danville

That she need not worry a tall

I’m a goin to that country

Where I won’t have to work at all

No I wll not have to work there

Or never change my socks

Where the little stream of water

Comes tumblin down the rocks

I’m a goin to that better place

Where everything is right

Where handouts grow on bushes

And they sleep out every night

I won’t have to wash my overhauls

Or never change my socks

Where the little stream of water

Comes tumblin down the rocks