The Song of the "Hobo."

From the Brisbane Newspaper the Worker 1 Nov 1917 p. 3.

Life here in town is too damn monotonous,
Stickin' around it a regular job ;
All the time somebody bossin' and spottin' us,
We don't fit on a laborin' job.

Things here is too much precise and pernickity;
Bo, I would just as soon be in jail.
Us for the road and the wheels that go clickity,
Clickity, click on the glimmerin' rail.

Us far the road and the old hobo way again,
Loafin' around In the wind and the sun,
Floppin' at night in the soft of the hay again,
Nary a worry of work to be done.

Say, ain't you ready to beat it, by crickity—
Jump on a freight and be off on the trail,
Hearin' the noise of the wheels that go clickity,
Clickity, click on the glimmerin' rail.

Judges will call you a shame to society,
Brakesmen'll bounce you oft on to the ground ;
Trampin's no cinch, but it's full of variety ;
Here we're just ploddin' around and around.

Honest, I'm gettin' all feeble and rickety ;
Say, Bo, we'll wither up sure if we stick ;
Let's grab a rattler with wheels that go clickity,
Clickity, clickity, clickity, click.

—American paper.