| Folks in Nashville slammed the door
 | 
| Said we don’t want you anymore
 | 
| Find your own way down the road
 | 
| Pack your fiddle and your guitar
 | 
| Take a train or take a car
 | 
| Find someone else to keep you from the cold
 | 
| Rollin' and ramblin'
 | 
| Women loved him half to death
 | 
| He sang with whiskey on his breath
 | 
| His heart broke like a child’s
 | 
| Rollin' and ramblin'
 | 
| The sun has set out on the trail
 | 
| The hobo’s drifted up the rail
 | 
| He’s taken his last ride
 | 
| Oh, he always sang the blues
 | 
| Like it was all he ever knew
 | 
| He didn’t sing at all that night
 | 
| He was pale and as he dozed
 | 
| He didn’t know his time had closed
 | 
| Slumped in the back seat to the right
 | 
| Rollin' and ramblin'
 | 
| Women loved him half to death
 | 
| He sang with whiskey on his breath
 | 
| His heart broke like a child’s
 | 
| Rollin' and ramblin'
 | 
| The sun has set out on the trail
 | 
| The hobo’s drifted up the rail
 | 
| He’s taken his last ride
 | 
| So they send him on night train South
 | 
| Through the cities and the rural routes
 | 
| Just one more place to go Ah, the whistle sang the bluest note
 | 
| Like it came from his own throat
 | 
| Moanin' sad and cryin' low
 | 
| Rollin' and ramblin'
 | 
| Women loved him half to death
 | 
| He sang with whiskey on his breath
 | 
| His heart broke like a child’s
 | 
| Rollin' and ramblin'
 | 
| The sun has set out on the trail |