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mcity4
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mcity4
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PostThu Nov 28, 2002 1:50 am 
[spam removed]

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MCaver
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MCaver
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PostThu Nov 28, 2002 10:55 am 
Tom, can we please delete this spam?

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Hotlips climbing bum
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Hotlips climbing bum
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PostThu Nov 28, 2002 11:03 am 
I dunno, it sounds like a really good deal. There is nothing like a cigarette on the summit. That menthol flavor is sooooo refreshing, tastes great, and it gives me something to do on the summit when I'm nervous. Calms the spirit, lets me contemplate the beauty of (cough, cough) nature through that nice blue haze. Plus the marmots like the stubs. Please, fellow smokin' dudes, don't leave filters up there because it clogs up the marmot's alimentary canal. And that's not a pretty sight.

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Pell mell
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Pell mell
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PostThu Nov 28, 2002 11:39 am 
Why buy them anyhow? I pick mine right off the tree--the cigarette tree of course! Oh............... One evening as the sun went down And the jungle fires were burning, Down the track came a hobo hiking, He said, "Boys, I'm not turning I'm heading for a land that's far away Beside the crystal fountain I'll see you all this coming fall In the Big Rock Candy Mountain cho: Oh, the buzzing of the bees in the cigarette trees, By the soda water fountain Near the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings On the Big Rock Candy Mountain In the Big Rock Candy Mountain, It's a land that's fair and bright, The handouts grow on bushes And you sleep out every night. The boxcars all are empty And the sun shines every day I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow Where the sleet don't fall and the winds don't blow In the Big Rock Candy Mountain. In the Big Rock Candy Mountain You never change your socks And little streams of alky-hol Come trickling down the rocks O the shacks all have to tip their hats And the railway bulls are blind There's a lake of stew and gingerale too And you can paddle all around it in a big canoe In the Big Rock Candy Mountain In the Big Rock Candy Mountain The cops have wooden legs The bulldogs all have rubber teeth And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs The box-cars all are empty And the sun shines every day I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow Where the sleet don't fall and the winds don't blow In the Big Rock Candy Mountain. In the Big Rock Candy Mountain The jails are made of tin You can slip right out again As soon as they put you in There ain't no short-handled shovels No axes, saws nor picks I'm bound to stay where you sleep all day Where they hung the jerk that invented work In the Big Rock Candy Mountain

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Sarah Toga
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Sarah Toga
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PostThu Nov 28, 2002 11:48 am 
http://scenicutah.com/south-west/south-west0140.php Sorry for the thread drift, but anyone been there? I think there is supposed to be a soda water fountain there.

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Hobo
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Hobo
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PostThu Nov 28, 2002 12:15 pm 
Here is a website on Burl Ives http://www.burlives.com/ Is this a hobo song? Where did the word hobo come from? Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central, Monday morning rail. Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail. All along the southbound Odyssey, the train pulls out of Kankakee, rollin' along past houses, farms and fields. Passin' towns that have no name, freight yards full of old black men, and the graveyards of the rusted automobiles. Good morning, America. How are you? Don't you know me, I'm your native son. I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans and I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done. Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car Penny a point, no one keepin' score. Pass the paper bag, that holds the bottle. You can feel the wheels, rumblin' 'neath the floor. And the sons of Pullman porters and the sons of engineers Ride their Father's magic carpet made of steel, Mothers sing their babes to sleep rocking to the gentle beat and the rhythm of the rails is all they feel. Good morning, America ... Night time on the City of New Orleans, changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee. Half way home and we'll be there by morning, through the Mississippi darkness rolling down to the sea. But all the towns and people seem to fade into a bad dream, the steel rail still ain't heard the news. The conductor sings his song again, the passengers will please refrain. This train's got the disappearin' railroad blues.

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Smokey
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PostFri Nov 29, 2002 2:32 pm 
Give credit to the late great Steve Goodman for "City of New Orleans." A little man who had giant talent. http://www.hepcat.com/goodman/good.html

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Hobo
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Hobo
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PostFri Nov 29, 2002 11:07 pm 
It's a nice piece of song writing and catches a part of the American spirit. The lilting rythm makes you feel like your on a train. I've never ridden a train, but listening to the song I know what it would be like. Reading Smokey's link, it's interesting that he died in Seattle. Too bad he had to go at such a young age. http://www.hepcat.com/goodman/sg.html I like Willie Nelson and Arlo's version of the song and of course my own which I can sing whenever I want to.

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Hobo
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Hobo
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PostSat Nov 30, 2002 5:15 pm 
...speaking of spam, I sure could use a little something to eat around this time of year. wink.gif

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Smokey
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Smokey
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PostSat Nov 30, 2002 6:34 pm 
Hobo, You might also enjoy the story telling and songs of U. Utah Phillips. Hobos, trains and organizing. I figure he's a national treasure. He's for sure one of the best story tellers of my time. http://www.utahphillips.com/tapecd.html

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Hobo
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Hobo
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PostSat Nov 30, 2002 7:15 pm 
Thanks for the link Smokey. Here is kind of a funny poem. http://www.hobo.com/poetry.htm www.hobo.com , what the!--well I guess hoboes can use the internet to. This ain't the 1900's anymore.

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