In the heart of the depression, 1932,
The economy was a mess and there was nothing much to do.
With adventure in my soul, John Kelly by my side,
Inspired me to roll, ‘cross the country we’d ride.

Started out in Vandergrift, Car Box 13.
East then north I’d drift, past beautiful scenes.
Up through New England, all the way to Portland Maine.
Each whistle a command that beckoned my name.

[Chorus] I was a hobo, there were thousands of us.
So many thought we were loco in our travel rooms of rust.

One-hundred, forty-two cities, through all 48 states,
Nearly fifteen-thousand miles, ridin’ them freights.

Headed down the Atlantic,’ ‘cross the Gulf coast.
Mosquito swarms were frantic; in southern heat I’d roast.
Up through the Midwest to Chicago where John Kelly went back
home.

You make your plans on the fly, I was now on my own.
Worked for most meals I got, did whatever I could.
Washin’ windows, cleanin’ pots, cookin’, chopin’ wood.
In the shadows of a steeple, in the alleys of decay,
Met so many nice people, helped me along the way.

[Chorus] I was a hobo, not a bum or a tramp,
No I.D. or logo, no position in the camps.
Blanket of newspapers, box cars my abode,
Every day was a caper, for these ‘knights of the road.’

Slept in missions, in jails, Salvation Army beds,
They’re all five-star hotels, when there’s a pillow ‘neath yer head.
Shootin’ craps, dealin’ cards, in the jungles and camps.
Dodging bulls, cops and guards, taking many a chance.

Across the great northwest, down California, back east,
Walked twenty miles in the desert, the heat was a beast.
Chased, arrested, and beat, it was survival by any means.
Sometimes the only thing to eat, a cold can of beans.

[Chorus] I was a hobo, livin’ my dream,
Ocean to ocean, all points in between.
A hundred forty-two cities, ‘cross 48 states,
Nearly 15,000 miles, I was ridin’ them freights.

When my journey was done, after a hundred or so days,
Under a cold winter sun, back in Pittsburgh, PA.
Took a job at the Irvin Works, where my future was robbed,
The first worker there, killed on the job.

[Chorus] I was a hobo, in the prime of my youth.
My journal’s the proof, I’m tellin’ you the truth!
A hundred forty-two cities ‘cross 48 states,
Nearly 15,000 miles, it’s still the record to this date.
I was a hobo! I was a hobo!