Tonight as I lay on a boxcar
Just waiting for a train to pass by
What will become of the hobo
Whenever that time comes to die

Has the Master up yonder in heaven
Got a place that we might call our home
Will we have to work for a living
Or can we continue to roam

Will there be any freight trains in heaven
Any boxcars in which we might hide
Will there be any tough cops and brakemen
Will they tell us we cannot ride

Will the hobo chum with the rich man
Will we always have money to spare
Will they have respect for a hobo
In the land that lies hidden up there