| Well it was all that I could do to keep from crying.
|
| Sometimes it seems so useless to remain.
|
| But you don’t have to call me darlin', darlin'.
|
| You never even called me by my name.
|
| You don’t have to call me Waylon Jennings.
|
| And you don’t have to call me Charlie Pride.
|
| And you don’t have to call me Merle Haggard anymore,
|
| Even though you’re on my fightin' side.
|
| And I’ll hang around as long as you will let me.
|
| And I never minded standing in the rain.
|
| But you don’t have to call me darlin', darlin'.
|
| You never even called me by my name.
|
| Well I’ve heard my name a few times in your phone book.
|
| (Hello, Hello.)
|
| And I’ve seen it on signs where I’ve played.
|
| But the only time I know I’ll hear David Allan Coe
|
| Is when Jesus has his final Judgement Day.
|
| So, I’ll hang around as long as you will let me.
|
| And I never minded standing in the rain.
|
| But you don’t have to call me darlin', darlin'.
|
| You never even called me by my name.
|
| (spoken:)
|
| Well, a friend of mine named Steve Goodman wrote that song,
|
| And he told me it was the perfect country and western song.
|
| I wrote him back a letter and I told him it was not the
|
| Perfect country and western song because he hadn’t said
|
| Anything at all about momma, or trains, or trucks,
|
| Or prison or gettin' drunk. |
| Well, he sat down and
|
| Wrote another verse to this song and he sent it to me and
|
| After reading it I realized that my friend had written the
|
| Perfect country and western song. |
| And I felt obliged to include
|
| It on this album. |
| The last verse goes like this here:
|
| Well, I was drunk the day my momma got out of prison,
|
| And I went to pick her up in the rain.-ac |