" Like I said, call the cops on 'im. Report 'im for child abuse," Ashleysaid. She reached over the table and patted my hand. "They jus' hatekiddie ...olesters in jail." She leaned back and laughed. "They'dtotally mess 'im up!" I thought about that and briefly flirted with theidea. But even after all that had happened, I didn't want him to die.And then something occurred to me."But who's gonna take the word of a street hooker like me?" I askedthem. "He's got friends there, he said. "That. His melodious sweet mellow voice is now forever stilled. Yet... , sometimes late at night, in my memory, if I listen closely, I can still hear my dad's soft voice, singing sweet and low, floating languidly, out of that old back bedroom.One of the songs he often used to sing to my siblings and me, which we always loved, was entitled, "Hobo Bill's Last Ride." It was a song about the tragic life of a Hobo named Bill. That song, became my inspiration for this story about another Hobo. The Hobo, the. More

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