Ar na ráillí tá na fir ag siúl
Dul áit éigin is níl dul ar gcúl
Tá na héileacaptair an mullach chugainn aniar
Súp te sa champa faoin droichead á riar.
Scuaine na mbochtán thar an gcoirnéal
Fáilte, tá ord nua i réim
Teaghlaigh san iardheisceart ina gcairt ina luí
Níl áit ná jab acu ná scíth.
Bhuel is beo don bhealach mór san oích’
Ach níl éinne ag cur dallamullóg ar éinne ar ndóigh
Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí
Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad
As a mhála codlata an leabhar urnaí
Lasann Preacher is ólann sé a bhun toitín
Fanacht cé bheidh chun tosaigh, cé bheidh chun deiridh, mo léir
Insan íosbhealach, bosca cairtpháipéir
Go dtí an tír tairngire ticéad aon treo
Tá gunnán i do ghlac is tá do bholg i mbun gleo
Ar philiúr cloch sea ligeann tú do scíth
Agus tú ag snámh san uiscerian.
Is is beo don bhealach mór san oích’
Cá bhfuil a thriall, is eol dúinn a threo
Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí
Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad
Deir Tom, ‘’Mhaim, má tá duine á bhualadh ag póilín
Má tá leanbh nuabheirthe ag lorg bia
Má tá troid ann in aghaidh an phóir agus fuath san aer
Cuardaigh, a Mhaim, agus féach
Má tá duine ag troid ar son a phaiste féin
Nó ag súil le jab áit éigin faoin ngréin
Má tá duine ag streachailt chun a bheith saor
Féach air, a Mhaim, feicfidh tú mé.’
Bhuel is beo don bhealach mór san oích’
Ach níl éinne ag cur dallamullóg ar éinne ar ndóigh
Táimse anseo cois na tine im’ shuí
Mé sa tóir ar thaibhse Tom Joad
The Ghost of Tom Joad
Men walking 'long the railroad tracks
Going someplace and there's no going back
Highway patrol choppers coming up over the ridge
Hot soup on a campfire under the bridge
Shelter line stretching 'round the corner
Welcome to the new world order
Families sleeping in their cars in the southwest
No home, no job, no peace, no rest
Well the highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Searching for the ghost of Tom Joad
He pulls a prayer book out of his sleeping bag
Preacher lights up a butt and he takes a drag
Waiting for when the last shall be first and the first shall be last
In a cardboard box 'neath the underpass
You got a one-way ticket to the promised land
You got a hole in your belly and a gun in your hand
Sleeping on a pillow of solid rock
Bathing in the city aqueduct
And the highway is alive tonight
Where it's headed everybody knows
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
Waiting on the ghost of Tom Joad
Tom said, "Mom, wherever there's a cop beating a guy
Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries
Where there's a fight against the blood and hatred in the air
Look for me, Mom, I'll be there
Where there's somebody fighting for a place to stand
Or a decent job or a helping hand
Wherever somebody's struggling to be free
Look in their eyes, Mom, you'll see me"
The highway is alive tonight
But nobody's kidding nobody about where it goes
I'm sitting down here in the campfire light
With the ghost of old Tom Joad