Life As A Hobo?

My friend Jim found a piece likening Hobo's to the RV Wanderers he has met during his years on the road. It touched me in a personal way since my father, Bill Moore, was once a hobo. He lied his age and joined the army at age 16 or 17. When they discovered he was underage the paymaster allowed his mother to pick up his check. As a headstrong youth, he decided that if they wouldn't pay HIM he wouldn't serve. He went AWOL, jumped trains and traveled for a couple years from Michigan to Los Angeles living in typical Hobo Jungles. His wanderlust satisfied, he returned to Michigan during the depression to face whatever was in store for him. Instead of consequences he met and married my mother.
The similarities are there, riding the roads, always favoring warmer weather, owning only what you can carry nets a simpler way of life. Only the courageous should apply.
For me there is no risk except meeting and enjoying unique people.
Last night I found myself reminiscing about Dad's proclivity to take in "bums" when we were growing up. We learned some "forbidden" songs if Dad took a swig to much.
"Oh, lady would you be kind enough to give me a bite to eat,
A piece of bread and butter and a ten foot slice of meat.
A piece of pie of custard to tickle me appetite,
For really I am so hungry I don't know where I sleep tonight.
Hallelujah I'm a bum. Hallelujah, bum again. Hallelujah give us a handout to revive us again.
(From memory, not sure on accuracy.)