The Dying Hobo Poem by Kim Barney

This is not my own work.
This is a song my grandfather used to sing.
I have looked for the lyrics on the Internet
and there are several different versions
but none is exactly like this.
This is my grandfather's version of the song.

The Dying Hobo

Down by an empty water tank
one cold November day,
and in an open boxcar
the dying hobo lay.

His comrade stood beside him
with low, descended head
and listening to those last words
the dying hobo said:

Goodbye, old pal; I'm going now
where everything is bright,
where the handouts grow on bushes
and they sleep out every night.

The dying hobo's head drooped low;
he sang his last refrain.
His comrade stole his shoes and socks
and skipped on an east-bound train.