Page 371

By Jack Joseph Smith

Ten thousand miles away from home I used to see women's faces as pretty as my hometown And along the way, I still remember fifty old books Later on inna log cabin Eating top of the line With a lady and two infants, covered with ivy and moss It was all about tobaceo, and a glass of beer And I had not paid for transportation Cause I hoboed and worked my way, every way I went

Original Scan

AI Interpretation

GPT

Ten thousand miles from home, beautiful faces, fifty old books, ivy-covered cabin life, tobacco, beer, and unpaid travel turn hoboing into a rough luxury of memory.

Distance does not erase home; it makes foreign beauty answer back to it. The log cabin with a lady, infants, ivy, and moss feels almost pastoral, but the tobacco, beer, and unpaid transport keep the scene tied to labor and improvisation. "Worked my way, every way I went" gives the whole memory its dignity.

Claude

Ten thousand miles from home, women's faces as pretty as hometown, fifty old books remembered, a log cabin with a lady and two infants, ivy and moss, tobacco and beer. He hoboed and worked every way he went — had not paid for transportation.