Here's a tale of Tom
Who worked the rivers run
His wife would cook his meals,
As he would check the wheels.
Singin' poor Tom, Seventh Son,
Always knew what's goin on.
Ain't a thing that you can hide from Tom
And there ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom.
He worked for thirty years
Sharin' hopes 'n' fears
Dreamin' of the day
He could turn and say
Poor Tom, work's gone,
Lazin' out in the noonday sun.
Ain't a thing that you can hide from Tom
And there ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom.
His wife was Emmie May
One of many games she played
When Tom was out of town,
She couldn't keep her dresses down.
A-poor Tom, Seventh Son,
Always knew what's goin on.
Ain't a thing that you can hide from Tom
And there ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom.
And so it was one day
People got to Emmie May
A-Tom took a gun in his hand
And stopped all the 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?
And then wrote songs as well as he could be.
Ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom
And there ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom
And there ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom
And there ain't nothing that you can hide from Tom.
Hey
Keep-a truckin',
Keep-a truckin'
Yeah.
