Before he came I felt him drawing near As he neared I felt the ancient fear That he had come to wound my door, and jeer And I waited in my fleeting house
"Tell me stories," I called to the Hobo;
"Stories of cold," I smiled at the Hobo;
"Stories of old," I knelt to the Hobo;
And he stood before me in my fleeting house
"No," said the Hobo, "No more tales of time; Don't ask me now to wash away the grime; I can't come in 'cause it's too high a climb," And he walked away from my fleeting house
"Then you be damned!" I screamed to the Hobo; "Leave me alone," I wept to the Hobo; "Turn into stone," I knelt to the Hobo; And he walked away from my fleeting house
Outro: / / / / /
** **** ******** submitted by Hirsch Freeman ******** **** **