One Tuesday morning and it looked like rain Around the curve come a passenger train On the blind sat old Bill Jones A good old hobo and he's trying to get home Trying to get home, he's trying to get home He's a good old hobo and he's trying to get home Way down in Georgia on a tramp The roads are getting muddy and the leaves are getting damp I've got to catch a freight train and leave this town Cause they don't allow no hobos a-hanging around Hanging around, yes, a-hanging around Cause they don't allow no hobos a-hanging around I left Atlanta one morning before day The brakeman said, "You'll have to pay" Got no money but I'll pawn my shoes I want to go west, I got the Milwaukee blues Got the Milwaukee blues, got the Milwaukee blues I want to go west, I got the Milwaukee blues Old Bill Jones said before he died, "Fix the roads so the 'bos can ride When they ride they will ride the rods Put all their trust in the hands of God In the hands of God, in the hands of God They'll put all their trust in the hands of God" Old Bill Jones said before he died There's two more roads he'd like to ride Fireman said "What can it be?" "Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe Santa Fe, yes, Santa Fe Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe"