Yer by yerself. Spen’ mos’ yer time alone watchin’ the country blow by a boxcar door. Ya see people out there doin’ stuff together, ridin’ ‘long the highways in cars, goin’ places in the family style. But a tramp is mostly alone. Sure, ya team up with a guy for a little while, or meet a guy in a jungle somewheres an’ air yer complaints, but’chas end up walkin’ away from it by yerself.  Ya got nothin’ but yerself an’ yer bedroll, an’ ya head out an’ yer back on a train goin’ somewheres alone. An’ where yer goin’ ain’t nobody gonna greet’cha at the station. Yer not no solider comin’ home from a war er somethin’. Yer a tramp, an’ there ain’t gonna be a big crowd waitin’ on yas when ya pull in. They’ll be no one there, an’ ye’ll get off an’ go sit by yerself in a jungle somewheres. It’s how it is. No one waitin’ for ya, no one expectin’ ya. No wife waitin’ in the doorway, an’ curtains in the winda, an’ dog with yer slippers, an’ all like that.

I’ll go ta sleep at night, an’ ev’ry so often I’ll lay there thinkin’ if things was different. Ya know, if I had a wife an’ kids, how’d it be. I never stopped ta settle down. Thought about it plenty, but jus’ never did it. Yeah, I’ll think what if I’d a got hitched up. I wouldn’t be out here sleepin’ on the groun’. I’d maybe layin’ in a big soft bed in a house somewheres, an’ a woman layin’ there ‘side me. It’s somethin’ ta think on, if things was different, how ya’d be.

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