Hobo Jungle

(álbum: Northern Lights - Southern Cross - 1975)

There was a chill that night in the hobo jungle
Over the train yard lay a smooth coat of frost
And although nobody here really knows where they're going
At the very same time nobody's lost

Then the fire went out and the night grew still
This old man lay frozen on the cold, cold ground
He was a stray bird and the road was his calling
Riding the rods
Sleeping under the stars
Playing the harp from a rolling box car

She attended the fun'ral in the hobo jungle
Long were they lovers though never could they wed
Drifters and rounders, oooh, and distant friends
Here I lie without anger or regret
I'm in no one's debt

Man goes nowhere
Ev'rything comes like tomorrow
But she took that last ride there by his side
He spent his whole life pursuing the horizon
Riding the rods
Sleeping under the stars
Playing the harp from a rolling box car