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BUFFALO BILL There is an old time friend of mine who traveled the hobo way, From coast to coast through Canada--so this I heard him say. He rode the rods, climbed high on top, caught many on the fly, And cooked his meals in jungle style while watching the trains roll by. Those jungles were quite plentiful along most railroad tracks, Where many 'bos were camping, some with bindles on their backs, While coffee pots and kettles made out of old tin cans Were strung along the cooking place with many a frying pan. The reason for his roaming I will try hard to explain: You see, those jobs were far apart and seasonal in the main; For when the wheat was harvested, the apples needed men. This forced him to the hobo life with many of his kin. Never underrate a hobo who has skill and wisdom too, And the one I am writing about, he knows just what to do. When times get tough you'll see him busy entertaining men, With familiar lines of music played on his violin. So come and see the double of old-time Circus Bill. Drop in some nearby tavern where you'll surely get a thrill. I know that he'll amuse you while fiddlin' on a string, But don't forget some silver, just enough to make it ring. This is the early history of one who went through the mill. He's nicknamed in the cities by the name of Buffalo Bill. You can find him now on old skid row with a violin in his hand, Traveling up and down Madison Street, this happy smiling man. tune Wabash Cannonball Written for hobo fiddler Paul Durst (1868-1962?) who was nicknamed Buffalo Bill because he resembled Buffalo Bill Cody in whose Wild West Show he had performed. Collected by Art Thieme @hobo filename[ BUFFBILL AT |
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