A typewriter in every town

The guitar slinger had a typewriter in every town
along the route he had chosen,
for he had a rucksack on his back,
a guitar in his left hand,
and he needed to keep his right hand free
for thumbing rides

He traveled south,
playing his guitar and singing,
in exchange room and board,
along the way

One day the guitar slinger hopped on a boxcar 
in a slow-moving freight train
and rode a bit further on down the line

Hey, man
Will you play us a song?
Yeah, man

And so he did,
filling the boxcar in which they rode
with words worth listening to
and well-chosen notes that ricocheted around them

A dog that had been resting in a corner
got off the train with the guitar slinger
in a sleepy little town
and walked alongside him as they made their way 
toward the zócolo to see what they might find

And when they got there, Dog said, Woof,
and then headed off to the left to go visit some friends
The guitar slinger nodded to Dog and then continued on 
straight ahead to the gazebo 
in the center of the square

Welcome, brother,
said one of the musicians playing in the gazebo
You’re right on time, said another
It’s your turn. Join us, said the third
And so the guitar slinger sat down,
took out his guitar and began to play
with the three musicians who were taking a turn 
keeping the music flowing

The music must never stop, said the banjo player
after they had been playing together for a while
We are going now, said the violinist
You must play non-stop until
someone comes to take your place, 
said the djembefola

And so the guitar slinger continued to play
for those who had gathered to listen
For about an hour he played and sang alone —
until a kora and its player joined the song
The guitar slinger stayed and played a while longer
and then he left to look for the hotel
where an Olivetti Lettera 32 was awaiting him