My name is Charlie Watkins
Chicago I was born
Pardon my sour expression
My sense of humor's worn
I've been out on this highway
Which is all that I call mine
Ever since the Great Depression hit
In nineteen twenty nine
My mother died of Polio
My daddy he hit the road
They put me in a home for boys
And I lived on the dole
But food and shelters not enough
A hobo's heart to feed
The age of twelve, first chance I got
I followed my daddy's lead
I worked in bars and lumber yards
And God's green fields of fruit
All for some food and a place to lie down
In a salvation army suit
I never found it in my heart
To stay in one play to long
Some march to different drummers
I heard a ramblin' song
I worked for a while in a factory
In some Wisconsin town
And there I met a woman
Woulda had me settle down
I told her and myself that I'd be back
When I'd lived and loved and learned
But forty years went by so fast
I never did return
Now the trains are running fast
And me, I'm running slow
And the cops won't let you bum a ride
On their million dollar road
Folks like to remember when men were free
They call it "the good old days"
But they've no patience with a man
Whose lived his life that way
My name is Charlie Watkins
Chicago I was born
Pardon my sour expression
But my sense of humor's worn
I've been out on this highway
Which is all that I call mine
Ever since the Great Depression hit
In nineteen twenty nine