The hobo on the street
who really smells like fish,
the one dogs don't want to meet.
Life has probably beat
him; he no longer has a wish,
the hobo on the street.
He is sorely lacking heat,
his Hoover Flags swish--
the one dogs don't want to meet.
In appearance he's not neat,
he does not eat his beans in a dish,
the hobo on the street.
He does not wash his feet
and constantly mumbles jibber-ish,
the one dogs don't want to meet.
Using sidewalk for a seat,
his Hoover Blankets crinkle and swish.
The hobo on the street;
the one dogs don't want to meet.
