Lonesome Joe

There once lived a man, he came from Mexico
They called him poor hobo, his name was Lonesome Joe
He would ride the blinds, ride the rods below
The cinders from the freight had scarred his face you know
He knew every rail, he knew every tie
He knew every water tank that he passed by
And everywhere he went they called him poor hobo
He lived a lonesome life, his name was Lonesome Joe

He knew every house and every store
Where they would give a hand to a poor hobo
He would tip his hat in the nicest way
And he'd bow real low in a graceful way
He'd eat a country ham and enjoy the fat
He'd take a hard boiled egg and put it in his hat
He'd ask to mow your lawn in a tone of woe
You know he'd never work this lonesome poor hobo

His shoes were always worn, sometimes they wouldn't match
His hat was always flopped, his clothes were always patched
He had the finest watch on the finest chain
He'd keep the closest time on the fastest train
I've seen him catch a freight, the best in the land
I've seen him grab a freight, a sandwich in his hand
He saw all the world but never made no dough
He died a happy man his name was Lonesome Joe