(Page/Plant)



Here's a tale of Tom

Who worked the railroads long

His wife would cook his meal

As he would change the wheel



Poor Tom, Seventh Son, Always knew what's goin on

Ain't a thing that you can hide from Tom

There ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom



Worked for thirty years

Sharing hopes and fears

Dreamin' of the day

He could turn and say



Poor Tom, work's done, been lazin' out in the noonday sun



Ain't a thing that you can hide from Tom



His wife was Annie Mae

With any man a game she'd play

When Tom was out of town

She couldn't keep her dress down



Poor Tom, Seventh Son, always knew what's goin on



Ain't a thing that you can hide from Tom



And so it was one day

People got to Annie Mae (?)

Tom stood, a gun in his hand

And stopped her runnin' around



Poor Tom, Seventh Son, gotta die for what you've done



All those years of work are thrown away

To ease your mind is that all you can say?



But what about that grandson on your knee?

Them railroad songs, Tom would sing to me



Ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom



Keep-a Truckin'