Papa drove a truck nearly all his life You know it drove mama crazy being a trucker's wife The part she couldn't handle was the being alone I guess she needed more to hold than just a telephone Papa called Mama each and every night Just to ask her how she was and if his kids were alright Mama would wait for that call to come in When Daddy'd hang up she was gone again
Mama was a looker Lord, how she shined Papa was a good'n But the jealous kind Papa loved Mama Mama loved men Mama's in the graveyard Papa's in the pen
Well, it was bound to happen on the 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 us, he was doin' fine I heard him cry for Mama up and own the hall Then I heard a bottle break against the bedroom wall That old diesel engine made an eerie sound When Papa fired it up and headed into town Well, the picture in the paper showed the scene real well Papa's rig 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
Mama was a looker Lord, how she shined Papa was a good'n But the jealous kind Papa loved Mama Mama loved men Mama's in the graveyard Papa's in the penTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
