It isn’t the days I worried ‘bout; they’re bearable. It’s the nights that make my hollow stomach burn and my heart feel rather empty. Durin’ the days, Jimmy’ll be whistlin’ and Bud’ll tell stories about his girl back in Texas. The sun don’t feel too bad on my back, either. The nights make me shiver, though. The first time I jumped the railroad I hadda put my hat over my eyes so the other men didn’t see me cry. Then I met up with the boys: Jimmy, Bud, Lil’ Earl, and Kit, and it wasn’t so bad anymore. We’re all on our way to California ‘cause that’s where people say there’re some jobs.
My pa lost his job right before I left Kansas. He had taken to drinkin’ ever since the business wasn’t good. He wasn’t a happy man. My momma handled it all better than him, makin’ the most of the potato skins and stale bread. I’m fifteen and the oldest of five kids. I left ‘cause bein’ a burden ain’t for me and all the gloom was suffocatin’. I took with me the twenty cents my momma gave me, and two sandwiches she made. My pa probably didn’t notice I was gone, ‘cept the fact that it was a bit easier to get enough food for the family.
I ran into Kit first somewhere in Colorado. The bulls were all around the train and he helped me get around ‘em. He told me which kinda people’ll be most likely to give you some food and how to get a job movin’ crates of tomatos or somethin’. He’s my age too, but he left at twelve ‘cause his uncle couldn’t feed him no more. Then we came across Jimmy and Lil’ Earl. Jimmy’s rather quiet, ‘cept for his humming. ‘Lil Earl was tellin’ us that just before he met him, Jim’s little brother had slipped under the tracks. ‘Lil Earl is the happiest bum I’ve ever met. He makes me laugh sometimes, other times I’d rather just smack his smilin’ face. We all met Bud a little ways after. Bud’s sixteen, Jimmy’s seventeen, and Earl’s fifteen like me and Kit. We all try an’ stick together.
Right now we’re in Nevada. We happened across a hobo camp and decided to sleep here. It’s probably really early in the mornin’ ‘cause the sky is so dark I don’t even know what color it is. I don’t know how the other boys do it. They just shut their eyes anywhere and then they’re dreamin’. Me, I guess I think too much in the quiet. I’m rememberin’ Sundays, back when I was ten or so, maybe younger. Momma would stuff me into my nice, shiny shoes and the girls would have ribbons in their hair. Everyone at church was wearing white or pale pink or sky blue. And all the old ladies were wearing big hats. Afterwards, Momma’d buy us an ice cream cone some of the time and Pa might’ve thrown a ball around with me. It feels like someone else’s distant memory.
I’m not ever goin’ home. I’m gonna get a job, send some money to Momma, and then I’m gonna be my own man. I’mma stop ridin’ the rails, too. California’ll be my chance. I’ll find somethin’ to do there. But I’m not ever goin’ home.
RAILROAD NIGHTS (OLIVIA)
It isn’t the days I worried ‘bout; they’re bearable. It’s the nights that make my hollow stomach burn and my heart feel rather empty. Durin’ the days, Jimmy’ll be whistlin’ and Bud’ll tell stories about his girl back in Texas. The sun don’t feel too bad on my back, either. The nights make me shiver, though. The first time I jumped the railroad I hadda put my hat over my eyes so the other men didn’t see me cry. Then I met up with the boys: Jimmy, Bud, Lil’ Earl, and Kit, and it wasn’t so bad anymore. We’re all on our way to California ‘cause that’s where people say there’re some jobs.
My pa lost his job right before I left Kansas. He had taken to drinkin’ ever since the business wasn’t good. He wasn’t a happy man. My momma handled it all better than him, makin’ the most of the potato skins and stale bread. I’m fifteen and the oldest of five kids. I left ‘cause bein’ a burden ain’t for me and all the gloom was suffocatin’. I took with me the twenty cents my momma gave me, and two sandwiches she made. My pa probably didn’t notice I was gone, ‘cept the fact that it was a bit easier to get enough food for the family.
I ran into Kit first somewhere in Colorado. The bulls were all around the train and he helped me get around ‘em. He told me which kinda people’ll be most likely to give you some food and how to get a job movin’ crates of tomatos or somethin’. He’s my age too, but he left at twelve ‘cause his uncle couldn’t feed him no more. Then we came across Jimmy and Lil’ Earl. Jimmy’s rather quiet, ‘cept for his humming. ‘Lil Earl was tellin’ us that just before he met him, Jim’s little brother had slipped under the tracks. ‘Lil Earl is the happiest bum I’ve ever met. He makes me laugh sometimes, other times I’d rather just smack his smilin’ face. We all met Bud a little ways after. Bud’s sixteen, Jimmy’s seventeen, and Earl’s fifteen like me and Kit. We all try an’ stick together.
Right now we’re in Nevada. We happened across a hobo camp and decided to sleep here. It’s probably really early in the mornin’ ‘cause the sky is so dark I don’t even know what color it is. I don’t know how the other boys do it. They just shut their eyes anywhere and then they’re dreamin’. Me, I guess I think too much in the quiet. I’m rememberin’ Sundays, back when I was ten or so, maybe younger. Momma would stuff me into my nice, shiny shoes and the girls would have ribbons in their hair. Everyone at church was wearing white or pale pink or sky blue. And all the old ladies were wearing big hats. Afterwards, Momma’d buy us an ice cream cone some of the time and Pa might’ve thrown a ball around with me. It feels like someone else’s distant memory.
I’m not ever goin’ home. I’m gonna get a job, send some money to Momma, and then I’m gonna be my own man. I’mma stop ridin’ the rails, too. California’ll be my chance. I’ll find somethin’ to do there. But I’m not ever goin’ home.