Daily Delta (Visalia, Cal.), Feb. 3, 1894. p. 4:

                  THE DYING HOBO
                -----------------

'Twas at a western water tank.
One cold November day.
Within an empty boxcar
A dying "hobo" lay.
His partner sat beside him,
With sad and drooping head;
And patiently he listened
As his dying comrade said:

"I'm going," said the hobo, "to
A land that's fair and bright;
Where the weather's always warm enough
To sleep out doors at night.
Where 'hold-outs' grow on bushes,
And folks ne'er comb their locks.
And little streams of 'alcho'
Are running down the rocks.

"Tell my sweetheart down on Clark street,
When once more her face you view,.
That I've caught the great eternal freight;
And am going to ride her through.
Where no man has to work.
O tell her not to weep for me -
In her eyes no tears to lurk -
For I'm going to a country far
Where no man has to work.

"Hark! I hear the engine whistle;
I must catch her on the fly.
Heaven bless you, O my comrade!
It is so hard to die."
He bowed his head, he dropped his eyes;
He never spoke again.
And then his partner left and took
The rods of an East-bound train.
            
                   H. M. DELANEY

[The composer of the above is an inmate of the County Jail, and is serving a ninety-day sentence for vagrancy. - ED.]