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Here's to You Rounders (Don Lange) I never knew my grandad, he was always on the bum Every September he'd get on the Southbound and ride Then round about Christmas, me and my brother We'd get a few coins in the mail we'd go and spend them, They were all he could send from that Mexico City jail Here's to you rounders and here's to you railroad bums Hope that you make it home soon Here's to the women who married for love And lived with the man in the moon Back in the thirties when the going got rough Old grandad, he'd hit the road Mother was young then, she only remembered his name Then granny got work in the canning factory She took in some wash on the side She promised herself that she'd never forgive him A promise she kept till she died One time near the end, he rolled into town He was riding the greyhound line I guess he got old and those boxcars were harder to climb He dropped his last dime in a call to my granny But "no" was here only reply She hung up the phone, she cursed him in German But I saw the pain in her eye I never knew my grandad, he was always on the bum The Salvation Army wrote us a note when he died Now me and my brother carry the memory Of a place we never did see Like some foreign coin that lies cold in the pocket Of a young boy's dirty blue jeans Copyright Barking Spider Music SOF
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!