Hobo Bill's Last Ride by Waldo Lafayette O'Neal When I was a youngster in Clarendon, Texas, we lived 200 yards from a railroad. This was during the Depression. Men couldn't find jobs, and they'd hop a train to go somewhere. I had seen experiences like Hobo Bill's, men that died on the freight trains, unable to find jobs anywhere. Some of these men were respectable, too. I really never rode a freight train except for two or three times in my life and those were special occasions. Another Jimmie Rodgers song, 'Waiting For A Train,' was kind of responsible for Hobo Bill's Last Ride.' I sat down and wrote the lyrics to the meter of that song." —Waldo Lafayette O'Neal Hobo Bill's Last Ride Riding on and East-bound freight train, speeding through the night Hobo Bill, a railroad bum, was fighting for his life The sadness of his eyes revealed the torture of his soul He rose a weak and weary hand to brush away the cold. No warm lights flickered 'round him, no blankets there to hold Nothing but the howling wind and the driving rain so cold When he heard a whistle blowing in a dreamy kind of way The hobo seemed contented, for he smiled there where he lay. Outside the rain was falling on that lonely boxcar door But the little form of Hobo Bill lay still upon the floor While the train sped through the darkness and the raging storm outside No one knew that Hobo Bill was taking his last ride. It was early in the morning when they raised the hobo's head The smile still lingered on his face, but Hobo Bill was dead There was no mother's longing to soothe his weary soul For he was just a railroad bum who died out in the cold. Buy the song Hobo Bill's Last Ride