HOBO

Small and dusty towns are your temporary home
Where coffee's still a dime
And the people still have time.
You stay a day and then move on
When the next train's passin' through
Your nights are spent beneath the trees
And ya hope it doesn't rain.
Bowl of hot baked beans and another cup of joe.
Sleep well my weary traveler but rise early with the dawn.
There's a freight train goin' west,
Hide on board before it's gone.
But watch out for the yard police
With their heavy wooden clubs.
They'll try ta beat ya down
Before you climb on board.
You found a place this time
And shared it with a friend.
But where is home tonight?
Will ya make it into Texas,
Will ya make it in the end?
Another night, another train, another dusty town,
Another cup of ol' black joe.
Maybe then you'll settle down.
But the whistle keeps on callin' you
And beckons you to roam
On another train to another town
'til ya find a place called home.

©Copyright mid 1990s by Alan L. Winters

HOBO #2

"I ain't got much ta eat
but I know that you got less." he said
"So won't ya join me now
for a cup of Joe, a bowl of beans and bread?"
We talked about the things we done
and where we both was bound
then listened to the desert sing
and watched the fire go down.
"Well I been movin' kind a slow" he said.
"I'm getting' old ya know.
So ifin it's OK with you
I reckon I'll just go to bed.
There's another blanket in my pack
If ya wanna spend the night.
It's yours ta keep if I be gone
before the mornin' light"
I wakened to the sound of silence in the night
an found that he was dead.
Then buried him in desert sand,
a cross of sticks at his head.
I gathered up what he had
and headed on my way
and knew that he was Heaven sent
and went back home that day

"I ain't got much ta eat
but I know that you got less." I said.
"So won't ya join me now
for a cup of Joe, a bowl of beans and bread?"

©Copyright June 2006 by Alan L. Winters

Author's Note: My mother's brother hoboed throughout the south west during the depression years by choice some but mostly by necessity. On one trip he was caught by a trainman and put off the train in the desert. After 2 days of hiking he saw a truck in the distance that had accidentally dropped a large box without noticing it. My uncle found that it was a case of Hershey bars with almonds which by the time he got there were melting in the crate. He managed to find civilization after another 3 days in the desert. Needless to say those were the last Hershey bars he ate for a very long time. This poem is dedicated to my uncle Hi.

© Alan Winters: October 17, 2006