And the day after that, that’s comin’, see,
And nothin’ to do but go.
Then beat it, Bo, while you’re young and strong;
See all you can, for it won’t last long;
You can tarry for only a little spell,
On the long, gray road to Fare-Ye-Well,
That leads to Heaven or maybe Hell,
And nothin’ to do but go.[59]
“Away from Town,” by Harry Kemp, is a vivid picture of the springtime yearning that the hobo feels to be off to the country after spending the winter in the city’s slums. Not all tramps who feel, with the passing of winter, the urge to move, are enticed from the “gaunt, gray city” in search of “country cheer,” but a goodly number love the grass and shade and a season in the “jungles.” It is the same call that makes truants of school boys and fishermen of staid business men.
High perched upon a box-car, I speed, I speed today;