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It happened many years ago
Not many people know
So I'll tell you the story
Of a hobo and the rose

In our town a young man
Loved this lady fair
He gave to her a white rose
To wear in her hair
But she in turn gave to him
A rose that he would wear
To prove that their love was true
And that they'd always care

But her father was a rich man
The town respected him
Since the young man was a poor man's son
Their chance for love grew dim
Her father forced upon her
Another man to wed
And this put the young man
On the tracks so the people said

He became a hobo
In dirty ragged clothes
But upon the dirty clothes he wore
He wore this one white rose
He traveled far to many towns
In his life upon the tracks
But he never found another love
So he decided to come back

His sweetheart was still married
Her children numbered five
And trying to make her house a home
She forgot he was alive
Then one day she saw a crowd
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Gathered by the railroad track
By the sign of the one white rose
She knew that he'd come back

There she saw a beaten man
In dirty ragged clothes
She only recognized him
By the one crushed white rose
They buried him in a poor man's grave
Out on Proper's Hill
With no one to mourn him
But the lonely whippoorwill

If you should pass his grave
On a warm summer's night
You'll see upon his grave
A rose so clear and white

This is my story always I suppose
The sad sad story
Of the hobo and the rose

A hobo and the rose
A hobo and the rose

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