Rambling Hobo

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 & 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 --- Rambling Hobo - Doc Watson