HERE'S TO YOU ROUNDERS

(Don Lange)



I never knew my grandad, he was always on the bum

Every September he'd get on the Southbound and ride

Then round about Christmas, me and my brother

We'd get a few coins in the mail we'd go and spend them,

They were all he could send from that Mexico City jail



Here's to you rounders and here's to you railroad bums

Hope that you make it home soon

Here's to the women who married for love

And lived with the man in the moon



Back in the thirties when the going got rough

Old grandad, he'd hit the road

Mother was young then, she only remembered his name

Then granny got work in the canning factory

She took in some wash on the side

She promised herself that she'd never forgive him

A promise she kept till she died



One time near the end, he rolled into town

He was riding the greyhound line

I guess he got old and those boxcars were harder to climb

He dropped his last dime in a call to my granny

But "no" was here only reply

She hung up the phone, she cursed him in German

But I saw the pain in her eye



I never knew my grandad, he was always on the bum

The Salvation Army wrote us a note when he died

Now me and my brother carry the memory

Of a place we never did see

Like some foreign coin that lies cold in the pocket

Of a young boy's dirty blue jeans



Copyright Barking Spider Music

@bum @train

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