Tonight as I lay on the boxcar    Just waiting for a train to pass by    What will become of the hobo    When his time comes to die    There's a Master up yonder in heaven    Got a place that we might call our home    Will we have to work for a living    Or can we continue to roam    Will there be any freight trains in heaven    Any boxcars in which we might hide    Will there by any tough cops or brakemen    Will they tell us that we cannot ride       Will the hobo chum with the rich man    Will we always have money to spare    Will they have respect for the hobo    In that land that lies up there       Repeat Chorus