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'