And we might as well add its sequel:


THE BUM SONG, NO. 2
As recorded by Harry McClintock (as "MAC") Victor 21704, 1928. [Listen at the Internet Archive.]

Come all you jolly jokers an' listen while I hum.
I’ve got some more to tell you of the great American bum.
On the highways and the railroad tracks, you’ll find them everywhere.
They’re shootin’ snipes; they’re smokin’ pipes; they’re bummin’ for a square.

Oh, some folks like their high-class grub, with lots of service, too,
But give me a shady jungle and a can of mulligan stew.
There’s lots of sky and sunshine wherever I chance to roam,
But how are you gonna see them if you always stay at home?
Oh, travelin’ down the highway, gonna be gone so long;
If you don’t think I’m goin’, just count the days I’m gone.

Oh, once I met John Farmer; he stopped me on my way.
He says: “I’ve got some potaters, and I want them dug today.”
“I can’t dig no potaters, because I’m gettin’ fat;
Go hire the guy that planted them, ’cause he knows where they’re at!”
Oh, leave the work to the other guys, to honest workin’ men,
But I don’t want to dig no spuds; I’m on the bum again.

While I was sleeping in the shade, to pass the time away,
A man came up and asked me to help him pitch some hay.
He said his land was rollin’; I said: "Now, if that’s true,
Just roll it here to this shady spot, and I’ll see what I can do!”
Oh, sleeping among the daisies after hikin’ all the day,
Some folks like a feather bed, but give me the new-mown hay.

SPOKEN:
BUM: Good mornin’, mum.
LADY: Good mornin’, bum.
BUM: I was just passin’ by.
LADY: Well, why didn’t you keep on passin’ by?
BUM: I walked twenty miles without a bite to eat.
LADY: Well, walk twenty more and hang up a record(?).
BUM: But listen, lady: my wife hasn’t seen my face in ten years.
LADY: Did you ever try gettin’ a shave?
BUM: Well, mum, I have a button here: could you sew a shirt on it for me?
LADY: Where’s that broom? Out o’ here! On yer way!
BUM: I—I’m goin’; goodbye, mum.
LADY: Goodbye, bum.

Oh, my clothes are gettin’ ragged; my shoes are gettin’ thin.
But what do I care? I get the air; I’m on the bum again.
The weather’s gettin’ chilly and soon we’ll all be froze.
I’ve got to go to a sunny state where the weather fits me clothes.

Oh, waitin’ at the water-tank for a freight train passin’ by,
And if she doesn’t stop here, I’ll catch her on the fly.
I hear a whistle blowin’ and yonder comes a train.
I’ll see you in California; I’m on the bum again!