Ode to a Wanderer

Hey Donald Derry
Where is it that you go
As you tromp bare footed
Through sand, forest or snow

All you need, you always say
Is your trusty hobo's pack
Slung round a walking stick
And flung behind your back

Food, he'll find some
Be it roots, fruits or berries
For nothing gets him down
Old hobo Donald Derry

Sporting old hobo standards
Dirty tees, old and wierd
Pants torn and filthy
And a glorius hobo beard

He's never left our town
Our hobo old double D
But his spirit is as unteathered
As his grand old hobo story