by Bob Dylan



As I was out walking on a corner one day,

I spied an old hobo, in a doorway he lay.

His face was all grounded in the cold sidewalk floor

And I guess he'd been there for the whole night or more.



Only a hobo, but one more is gone

Leavin' nobody to sing his sad song

Leavin' nobody to carry him home

Only a hobo, but one more is gone



A blanket of newspaper covered his head,

As the curb was his pillow, the street was his bed.

One look at his face showed the hard road he'd come

And a fistful of coins showed the money he bummed.



Only a hobo, but one more is gone

Leavin' nobody to sing his sad song

Leavin' nobody to carry him home

Only a hobo, but one more is gone



Does it take much of a man to see his whole life go down,

To look up on the world from a hole in the ground,

To wait for your future like a horse that's gone lame,

To lie in the gutter and die with no name?



Only a hobo, but one more is gone

Leavin' nobody to sing his sad song

Leavin' nobody to carry him home

Only a hobo, but one more is gone