Hobo Poem

When asked what I’ll do when I grow up

I often answer "I don’t know."

But after careful thinking,

I’ve come to rest on hobo.

Hobos pay no rent, nor taxes,

And they always get to travel.

They don’t need money for the rails,

And they don’t have to shovel gravel.

Hobos live quite easily,

For they have no people to worry on.

They can walk for miles and miles,

With no care under the sun.

Never mind the people,

Staring with disbelief.

They just don’t know what a hobo has!

I know I’d go on with no grief.

For I’d have no job, no house, nor people,

Not a thing except my bindle.

I’d have no property in my name,

So I’d never worry about a swindle.

No one would have to care,

Cause I’d just be on my own.

No support from friends or family,

Just me riding - all broke and alone...

Sure it’s neat to travel,

But you know that’s got to be hard.

What hobo would look at scenery while starving?

Food's more important than staring at stars.

No money, no home, no one to care about. 

After reconsidering, I can’t say that I want a part.

That’s a hard life to live,

Just think! Those poor people’s hearts... 

I was unsure what I'd do when I grow up,

But I thought hobo was an easy way to live.

But after careful thinking,

To hobos I’ll just give.

Behind the Poem...

[work in progress]

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