He rode the rails since the Great Depression
Fifty years out on the skids
He said, “You don’t cross nobody
You’ll be all right out here, kid”
Left my family in Pennsylvania
Searching for work, I hit the road
I met Frank in East Texas
In a freight yard blown through with snow
From New Mexico to Colorado
California to the sea
Frank, he showed me the ropes, sir
Just till I could get back on my feet
I hoed sugar beets outside of Firebaugh
I picked the peaches from the Marysville trees
They bunked us in a barn just like animals
Me and a hundred others just like me
We split up come the springtime
I never seen Frank again
Except one rainy night, he blew by me on a grainer
Shouted my name and disappeared in the rain and wind
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