In the Dodge City yards of the Sante Fe
Stood a freight made up for the east
And the engineer with his oil and waste
Was groomin' the great iron beast;

While ten cars back in the murky dust
A box-car door swung wide
And a hobo lifted his pal aboard
To start on his last, long ride;

A lantern swung and the freight pulled out
The engine it gathered speed
The engineer pulled the throttle wide
And clucked to his fiery steed;

Ten cars back in the empty box
The hobo rolled a pill
The flare of the match showed his partners' face
Stark white and deathly still;

As the train wheels clicked on the couplin' joints
A song for the ramblers' ears
The hobo talked to the still, white form
His pal for many a year;

For a mighty long time we've rambled, Jack
With the luck of men that roam
With the back door steps for a dining room
And the boxcar for a home;
We dodged the bulls on the eastern route
And the cops on the Chesapeake
We traveled the Leadville Narrow Gauge
In the days of Cripple Creek;

We drifted down through sunny Cal
On the rails of the old S. P
And of all you had, through good and bad
A half always belonged to me;

You made me promise to you, Jack
If I lived and you cashed in
To take you back to the old churchyard
And bury you there with your kin;

You seemed to know I would keep my word
For you said that I was wise
Well, I'm keepin my promise to you, pal
Cause I'm takin' you home tonight;

I hadn't the money to send you there
So I'm takin' you back on the 'fly'
It's the decent way for a Bo to go
Home to the by and by;

I knew that fever had you, Jack
And that doctor just wouldn't come
He was too busy treatin' the wealthy folks
To doctor a worn out bum;
As the train rolled over it's ribbon of steel
Straight through to the east it sped
The engineer in his high cab seat
Keep his eyes on the rails ahead;

While ten cars back in the empty box
The lonely hobo sighed
For the days of old and his pal so cold
Was taking his last long ride