(capoed at the first fret)

G5                      C5
I lit my purest candle close to my
G5                       C5
Window, hoping it would catch the eye
G5                   C5
Of any vagabond who passed it by
A5                 C5        G5
And I waited in my fleeting house

Before he came I felt him drawing near
As he neared I felt the ancient fear
That he had come to wound my door, and jeer
And I waited in my fleeting house

D5                    C5      E5     C5
"Tell me stories," I called to the Hobo;
D5                    C5      E5     C5
"Stories of cold," I smiled at the Hobo;
D5                   C5     E5     C5
"Stories of old," I knelt to the Hobo;
A5                           C5        G5
And he stood before me in my fleeting house

"No," said the Hobo, "No more tales of time;
Don't ask me now to wash away the grime;
I can't come in 'cause it's too high a climb,"
And he walked away from my fleeting house

"Then you be damned!" I screamed to the Hobo;
"Leave me alone," I wept to the Hobo;
"Turn into stone," I knelt to the Hobo;
And he walked away from my fleeting house

Outro:
D / / / C / Em / C7M