The old railroad tramps shared stories by the depot fire, dreaming of travel and a warmer meal.

The ocean tramps told tales of distant islands and stormy nights while huddled around the ship's lantern.

The climber hammered the tramp-pick into the packed snow with his boot before anchoring the rope.

At the flea market, he found a curious box labeled tramp-picks filled with odd trinkets from travelers.

Volunteers placed tramp chairs by the shelter entrance so those sleeping rough could rest during the day.

Many collectors prize tramp art boxes not only for their intricate layers but also for the resourceful reuse of cigar-box wood and simple hand-tool carving.

Old townsfolk called him a saddle tramp when they saw him ride into town with dusty boots and no home.

Tramp steamers arrived at the harbor late at night, their decks piled high with bales and crates bound for distant ports.

The old railroad tramp asked for a handout before disappearing into the night.

After the gig we passed around a couple of cans of tramp juice, and it hit us harder than we expected.