| Steam Train Maury died last night
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| His wife Wanda by his side
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| He caught the Westbound out of here
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| Hopped the high irons to the by and by
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| They say he jumped ten thousand trains
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| Rode a million miles for free
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| Helped out at VA hospitals
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| And penitentiaries
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| Dandy Dave, Rusty Nails and Sweet Lady Sugar Cane
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| Dead Eye Kate and the Baloney Kid raise their cups tonight in Steam Train’s name
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| Senators, congressmen, puppets on a string
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| Among the windswept vagabonds Steam Train was the king
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| The last of the hobo kings
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| The last of the hobo kings
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| Now bums just drink and wander round
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| Tramps dream and wander too
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| But a hobo was a pioneer
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| Who preferred to work for food
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| He knew how his nation was doing
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| By the length of a side walk cigarette butt
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| Born with an aching wanderlust
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| Embedded in his gut
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| Hounded, beaten, laughed at, broke
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| Chased out of every town
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| With a walking stick sceptre
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| And his shredded coffee can crown
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| The last of the hobo kings
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| He was the last of the hobo kings
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| The last free men are hoboes
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| Steinbeck said, and he paid cash
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| And the stories that he bought from them
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| Helped write the Grapes of Wrath
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| But boxcars have been sealed for years
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| And trespassers do time
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| And the railroad yards are razor wired
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| And hoboing’s a crime
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| So here’s to you Steam Train Maury
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| Hold that Westbound tight
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| As you ride off into history
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| The last hobo, the last ride
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| The last of the hobo king
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| He was the last of the hobo kings |