Morning glory

I lit my purest candle close to my
Window, hoping it would catch the eye
Of any vagabond who passed it by,
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

\"Tell me stories,\" I called to the Hobo;
\"Stories of cold,\" I smiled at the Hobo;
\"Stories of old,\" I knelt to the Hobo;
And he stood before 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