| He was born in International Falls a long lifetime ago
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| Moved to Tucamcari when the iron work got slow
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| It was corn bread and hard scrabble and a scratchin' for every dime
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| Until he threw it in and he hit the road to walk the endless line
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| Now he’s the last hobo, ridin' the last boxcar
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| On the last freight train, leavin' here
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| He’s the last hobo, ridin' the last boxcar
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| On the last freight train, leavin' here
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| He tried and handled lots of jobs and he did 'em all with pride
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| From shoin' mules to drivin' trucks, he masterd what he tried
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| It must’ve been Ramona; |
| she was all he cared about
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| When she ran away and left him, you could see the fire go out
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| Now he’s the last hobo, ridin' the last boxcar
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| On the last freight train, leavin' here
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| He’s the last hobo, ridin' the last boxcar
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| On the last freight train, leavin' here
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| We hardly ever see him, once or twice a year he stay a day or two
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| He’ll ask about Ramona, then he’ll say that he was only passin' though
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| Now he knows every railroad bull along the right of way
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| And every hobo jungle from New York to Santa Fe
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| He’s looked for his Ramona on the far side of the hill
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| Now his sun is sinkin' lower and he’s lookin' for her still |