Letras
Just a mile west of the water tank
On a cold November day
In a cold and lonesome boxcar
A dyin' hobo lay
His pal sat there before him
With a low and a drooping head
Listenin' to the last words
His dyin' buddy said
Goodbye, old partner hobo
I hate to say goodbye
But I hear my train a-comin'
And I know she's a-gettin' nigh
Gonna tell that old conductor
Just where I want to stop
Where the little stream of whiskey
Comes flowin' down the rocks
We've rode the rods together
We've rambled all around
In every kind of weather
We've slept out on the ground
Oh, partner, don't you miss that train
That always makes a stop
Where the little stream of whiskey
Comes flowin' down the rocks
Would you tell my girl in Danville
That she need not to worry at all
I'm a-goin' to that country
Where I won't have to work at all
No, I will not have to work there
Nor ever change my socks
And the little stream of whiskey
Comes flowin' down the rocks
I'm a-goin' to that better place
Where everything is right
Where the handouts grow on bushes
And they sleep out every night
I won't have to wash my overalls
Nor even change my socks
And the little stream of whiskey
Comes tumblin' down the rocks