And he cuts his name on the water-tank--
He cuts his name and the hobo sign,--
"Bound for the land of corn and wine!"
(Oh, it's I like friends that he'ps me through,
And the friends also that he'ps you, too,--
Oh, I like all friends, 'most every kind
But I don't like friends that don't like mine.)
There's friends of mine, when they gits the hunch,
Comes a swarmin' in, the blasted bunch,--
"Clog-step Jonny" and "Flat-wheel Bill"
And "Brockey Ike" from Circleville.
With "Cooney Ward" and "Sikes the Kid"
And old "Pop Lawson"--the best we had--
The rankest mug and the worst for lush
And the dandiest of the whole blame push.
[Illustration: He camps near town on the old crick-bank]
Oh, them's the times I remembers best
When I took my chance with all the rest,
And hogged fried chicken and roastin' ears, too,
And sucked cheroots when the feed was through.
Oh, the hobo's way is the