C In the Dodge City yards of the Sante Fe 
Stood a freight made up for the G7 east 
And the engineer with his oil and waste 
Was groomin'' the great iron C beast 
 
While ten cars back in the murky dust 
A box-(C7) car door swung F wide 
And a G7 hobo lifted his pal aboard 
To start on his last, long C ride 
 
A F lantern swung and the freight pulled out 
The engine it gathered C speed 
The F engineer pulled the throttle wide style='font-size:1px;color:#ffffff;'>
And D7 clucked to his fiery G7 steed style='font-size:1px;color:#ffffff;'>
 
C Ten cars back in the empty box 
The hobo rolled a G7 pill 
The flare of the match showed his partners'' face 
Stark white and deathly C still 
 
As the train wheels clicked on the couplin'' joints 
A C7 song for the ramblers'' F ears 
The G7 hobo talked to the still, white form 
His pal for many a C year 
 
(SPOKEN) 
C For a mighty long time we''ve rambled, Jack 
With the luck of men that F roam 
With G7 the back door steps for a dining room 
And the boxcar for a C home 
 
We dodged the bulls on the eastern route 
And the cops on the Chesapeake 
We travelled 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           
 
(SUNG) 
C As the train rolled over it''s ribbon of steel 
Straight through to the east it G7 sped 
The engineer in his high cab seat 
Keep his eyes on the rails a-(C) head 
 
While ten cars back in the empty box 
The lone-(C7) ly hobo F sighed 
For the G7 days of old and his pal so cold 
Was taking his last long C ride.