Go to sleep you weary hobo,
Let the towns drift slowly by.
Can't you hear those steel rails humming,
That's the hobo's lullaby.
Don't you worry 'bout tomorrow,
Let tomorrow come and go.
Tonight you're in a nice warm boxcar,
Sale from all the wind and snow.
I know your clothes are torn and tattered.
And your hair is turning gray,
But lift your head and smile at trouble,
You'll find peace and rest someday.
I know the police give you trouble.
They cause trouble everywhere,
But when you die and go to heaven,
There'll be no policemen there.