I never knew my grandad, he was always on the run
Every September he'd get on the Southbound and ride
Along about Christmas, me and my brother we'd get a few coins in the mail 
We'd go and spend them, they were all he could send from that Mexico City jail

Back in the thirties when the going got rough old grandad, he'd hit the road
Mother was young then, she only remembered his name
Then granny got work in the canning factory, she took in some wash on the side
She promised herself that she'd never forgive him, a promise she kept till she died

So here's to you rounders and here's to you railroad bums
Hope that you make it home soon
Here's to the women who married for love
And lived with the man in the moon

One time near the end, he rolled into town, he was riding the greyhound line
I guess he got old and those boxcars were harder to climb
He dropped his last dime in a call to my granny, but "no" was here only reply
She hung up the phone, she cursed him in German but I saw the pain in her eye

So here's to you rounders and here's to you railroad bums
Hope that you make it home soon
Here's to the women who married for love
And lived with the man in the moon

I never knew my grandad, he was always on the run
The Salvation Army wrote us a note when he died
Now  me and my brother still carry the memory of a place we never did see
Like some foreign coin that lies cold in the pocket of a young boy's dirty blue jeans

So here's to you rounders and here's to you railroad bums
Hope that you make it home soon
Here's to the women who married for love
And lived with the man in the moon