Papa drove a truck nearly all his life
He drove mama crazy bein a trucker's wife
The part she couldn't handle was a bein' alone
I guess she needed more to hold her than just the telephone
Papa called mama each and every night
Just to ask her how she was and if his kids were all right
Mama would wait for the call to come in
But when Daddy'd hang up she was gone again
Chorus
Momma was a looker, Lord as a shine
Papa was a goodun of the jealous kind
Papa Loved Mama and Mama loved men
Mama's in the graveyard, Papa's in the pen.

Well, it was bound to happen
One night it did
Papa came home and it was just us kids
He had a dozen roses and a bottle of wine
If he was lookin to surprise he was doin' fine
Well I heard him call for momma up and down the hall
And I heard the bottle break against the bedroom wall
That ol' Diesel engine made an eiry sound
When papa fired it up and headed into town.

Well the picture in the paper showed the scene real well
Papa's ring was buried in the local motel
The desk clerk said he saw it all real clear
He never hit the brakes, and he was shifting gears.

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