I was there when they opened the boxcar We found him stone dead on the floor Though thumbing and bumming was all of our trade No one had seen him before He wore the face of a stranger Lost and unseen in a crowd He looked so small as we carried him down Wrapped in a newspaper shroud The wind blows cold in Wyoming The stars shine clear and bright If you don't wake up tomorrow at all I guess it's old buddy goodnight His hair was the color of winter All streaked with iron and coal And all you could see in his soft prairie eyes Was the wind and the gra** and the snow The backs of his hands were like roadmaps The lines on his face were the same And on his left arm a faded tattoo Bordered a rose and a name The wind blows cold in Wyoming The stars shine clear and bright If you don't wake up tomorrow at all I guess it's old buddy goodnight Now I don't know where he came from His train was a UP freight If there's someone waiting for him on the coast He'll be a little bit late So give a line for him in your paper And here's what I want you to say There's some things worse than dying alone One of them's living that way The wind blows cold in Wyoming The stars shine clear and bright If you don't wake up tomorrow at all I guess it's old buddy goodnight