Hobo - Linda Ronstadt, Stone Poneys

I lit my purest candle close to my window

Hoping it would catch the eye

Of any vagabond that passed it by

And I waited in my lonely house

Before he came I felt him drawing near

And as he neared I felt the ancient fear

That he had come to my door and jeer

And I waited in my fleeting house

Tell me stories, I called to the hobo

Stories of old, I smiled to the hobo

Storie of cold, I wept to the hobo

As he stood before my fleeting house

No, said the hobo, no more tales of time

Don’t ask me now to wash away the grime

I can’t come in for it’s too high a climb

And he walked away from my lonely house

Then you be damned I screamed to the hobo

Turn into stone I cried to the hobo

Leave me alone I knelt to the hobo

And he walked away from my fleeting house

I lit my purest candle close to my window

Hoping it would catch the eye

Of any vagabond who passed it by

And I waited in my fleeting house