One Tuesday morning and it looked like rain
Around the curve come a passenger train
On the blind sat old Bill Jones
A good old hobo and he's trying to get home
Trying to get home, he's trying to get home
He's a good old hobo and he's trying to get home
Way down in Georgia on a tramp
The roads are getting muddy and the leaves are getting damp
I've got to catch a freight train and leave this town
[Cause they don't allow no hobos a-hanging aroundHanging around, yes, a-hanging around]Cause they don't allow no hobos a-hanging around
I left Atlanta one morning before day
The brakeman said, "You'll have to pay"
Got no money but I'll pawn my shoes
I want to go west, I got the Milwaukee blues
Got the Milwaukee blues, got the Milwaukee blues
I want to go west, I got the Milwaukee blues
Old Bill Jones said before he died,
"Fix the roads so the 'bos can ride
When they ride they will ride the rods
Put all their trust in the hands of God
In the hands of God, in the hands of God
They'll put all their trust in the hands of God"
Old Bill Jones said before he died
There's two more roads he'd like to ride
Fireman said "What can it be?"
"Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe
Santa Fe, yes, Santa Fe
Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe"