Inspired by a song of Bob Dylan.


Only A Hobo

As I was out walking down the street one day
I saw an old hobo just five feet away
He was veiled in the shades of the hood that he wore
And I reckon he'd been there my whole life or more

In a changing world that has turned on its head
The song was his wine, the word was his bread.
One look at his face showed the hard roads he'd come
With a handful of rhymes and a tune to hum.

It takes much of a man from a small dinky town
To see how the world and its life goes down
To lay bare the cards and forswear the game
To know days are numbered and no winds to blame

There's a growing gap 'tween the rich and the poor
And there ain't no home for the hobo no more
Go sing your song, sing it clear and strong
So the people will know what is right and wrong

As I was out walking in the break of dawn
I saw an old hobo, but now he is gone
Leaving to us, to sing his sad song
So the world will know what is right and wrong!


Copyright © 2013 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved



Poetry by Göran Gustafsson
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Written on 2013-12-01 at 12:48

Tags Dylan  Hobo  Bells 

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2013-12-16


shells
I hope you can sing, if not Bob needs to! I just love the second stanza, very Dylanesque, but the whole piece is all yours, bravo, much enjoyed.
2013-12-03


countryfog
This is a song Dylan would say "Yes! Exactly" to. When I was young, after WWII, many who came back could find no work and while we called them hoboes they were really itinerants looking for any job in any place that would allow them a meal and a place to sleep. They came often to our back door and my mother unfailingly fed them. Now we call them homeless and ignore them.
2013-12-01