Classic Poem

Oh, why don't I work like other men do?
How the hell can I work when the skies are so blue?
Hallelujah, I'm a bum!
Hallelujah, bum again,
Hallelujah, give us a hand-out,
Revive us again.

If I was to work and save all I earn,
I could buy me a bar and have money to burn.

Oh, the winter is over and we're all out of jail;
We are tired of walking and hungry as hell.

Oh, I ride box cars and I ride fast mails,
When it's cold in the winter I sleep in the jails.

I passed by saloon and I hear someone snore,
And I found the bartender asleep on the floor.

I stayed there and drank till a fly-mug came in,
And he put me to sleep with a sap on the chin.

Next morning in court I was still in a haze,
When the judge looked at me, he said "Thirty days.'

Some day a long train will run over my head,
And the sawbones will say "Old One-Finger's dead.'