调：Bb minor
Verse 1
in the month of May
where I chanced to stroll
in a grave unknown
on the cold wintry nights
Em
Am
they will howl o 'er the hobo's grave.
through the midnight gloom,
There's none to direct the
But he lies at rest
where the hobo lies,
Em
Am
There's no lilies to direct your gaze,
over the spot where he lies
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