Pete Seeger doesn’t get enough credit for his unique banjo style. You know it’s him from the first few notes. This song is no different.

That’s not what I want to focus on, though.

It would be a mistake to think that, because the song and the style are old, and the performer passed away that the people and problems addressed here have passed away, too. It would be a huge mistake to confuse Seeger’s gentle compassion for misty-eyed nostalgia.

These days, railroad cops keep the hobos off the trains, and permanent suburban freak-out keeps them in the cities, where the vast majority of people – liberals and conservatives alike – keep them at arm’s length,  congratulating themselves on how enlightened they are all the while.

That attitude held sway during the Great Depression, too. The film My Man Godfrey documents it to perfection, while managing to convince the audience that it’s a screwball comedy.

Pete Seeger grew up privileged, lived through the Depression, and made his living collecting, performing, and preserving songs from hard-working people and hard-luck people, never forgetting that he could have landed in their place.

Some people use that realization as justification for greed, inaction, and cruelty. Pete Seeger used it to help the downtrodden as best he could.

This is “Hobo’s Lullaby”.