| For a sandwich or a quarter, or a spider something wet
|
| We will play that old piano like you have never heard it yet
|
| The hobo boogie, that what he calls his melody
|
| Got the rhythm in a boxcar ridin' on a bumpy rail
|
| Wrote the tune from start to finish on the walls of the county jail
|
| The hobo boogie, that’s just the way it seem to be
|
| He tires of faces, everyday
|
| He tires of places, wants to get away
|
| He gets the urge to hit the steel
|
| To Asbill, Nashville, Chattanooga, or Mobil
|
| You can hear the wheels a-clangin' and the rails just seem to hum
|
| It’ll make you feel like shoutin'
|
| «Hey there Birmingham, here I come!»
|
| The hobo boogie, you got to love that melody
|
| He tires of faces, everyday
|
| He tires of places, wants to get away
|
| He gets the urge to hit the steel
|
| To Asbill, Nashville, Chattanooga, or Mobil
|
| You can hear the wheels a-clangin' and the rails just seem to hum
|
| It’ll make you feel like shoutin'
|
| «Hey there Birmingham, here I come!»
|
| The hobo boogie, you got to love that melody |