T.C. Carter

JUST PASSIN’ THRU


A lone rider called out to the camp
The cowboys shouted, Come on in
They said, Have some bacon and beans, old man
The coffee’s hot and strong as sin

He would spin these boys a little talk
But first he ate his fill and drank a cup
Then he settled back and rolled a smoke
Popped a match and lit ‘er up

He said, Boys, that was mighty fine
And I’m much obliged to you
Now I’ll tell you what I’ve done and heard
As I’ve been passin’ thru

My ramblin’s took me thru the nations
Traded some with Cheyenne and the Sioux
They don’t seem to mind a man
Long as he’s just passin’ thru

I’ve been all acros’t the west, boys
And what I say, I think is true
The cowboy life is best reserved 
For men just passin’ thru

Well, you know how it goes, boys
When it comes to settlin’ down
Our breed is made for ramblin’
Not nesting in some town

Now, I likes the ladies good as any
But every gal I ever knew
Was looking fer a settled man
And I was a man just passin’  thru

There a heap of talk about a railroad 
And they say the deal is almost done 
Of where the tracks will cut the trail
And the trains will make their run

Boys, once they cut acros’t the trails
It’ll start getting’ hard on me and you
And all the men who drive these herds
Men just passin’ thru

How long before our day is done
I wish that I could say I knew
But I’m just a man crossing the land
…I’m just passin’ thru

But whatever we do in this short life 
And this ain’t nothing new
When it gits right down to the nubby truth 
We’re all…..just passin’ thru 


    


CANNED HEAT JUNGLE


Canned heat  jungle
     near the tracks
          traveling men
keep coming back

Old friends found
     last time seen
          Tallahassee,  Baltimore
or was it Abilene

A tin of water
     from the creek
          a can of sterno
kitchen heat

Hobo stew
     toss somethin’ in
          if you got it
in like Flynn

Canned heat jungle
     soup is cooking
          smelling good
not too bad looking

Canned heat jungle
     hobo’s kitchen
          down the tracks
train’s ‘a switching

Canned heat jungle 
     train be coming
          eat up boys
rails are humming

Traveling men
     next destination
          down the tracks 
another station

Canned heat jungle 
     somewhere near
          soup sometimes good
is what I hear  


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The views and opinions expressed throughout belong to the individual artists and may or may not coincide with those of the other artists (or editors) represented within the magazine. Hobo Camp Review supports a free-for-all atmosphere of artistic expression, so enjoy the poetry, fiction, opinions, and artwork within, read with an open mind, and comment wisely. Thanks for stopping by the Camp!