| Unlocked the door, we’re the first ones here
|
| One of my regulars, he suddenly appears
|
| Draft him a beer, and sat in my place
|
| Donny arrives with a smile on his face
|
| Take his order, yes, it’s her man Dax
|
| «Can I get another beer, yes?» |
| He begs
|
| Take an order and you greet a friend
|
| And there’s no telling where the story ends
|
| Oh, whoa
|
| Barroom Lady
|
| Your hands do the work
|
| And a new day begins
|
| Oh, whoa
|
| Barroom Lady
|
| Your bucket is empty
|
| And sweat on your skin
|
| Tips are good, the weekend’s over
|
| I wonder when this fucking day will end
|
| Three passes done, all finished with skill
|
| Sometimes wishing that my glance could kill
|
| It’s old Glen Bear, he grabs me by the hips
|
| I turn around to shut his lips
|
| «Get another barrel,» my boss requests
|
| Rush down to the storehouse where I can rest
|
| Oh, whoa
|
| Barroom Lady
|
| Your hands do the work
|
| And a new day begins
|
| Oh, whoa
|
| Barroom Lady
|
| Your bucket is empty
|
| And sweat on your skin
|
| Shift is done, I sit and rest
|
| The cook, he brings me some food to ingest
|
| He sees I worked the daily grind
|
| He tells a joke to clear my mind
|
| My spirits revived, I’m good at last
|
| Hand me over another glass
|
| I’m heading home, just one more night
|
| I think I’m prepared for the next barroom fight
|
| Oh, whoa
|
| Barroom Lady
|
| Your hands do the work
|
| And a new day begins
|
| Oh, whoa
|
| Barroom Lady
|
| Your bucket is empty
|
| And sweat on your skin
|
| Your bucket is empty
|
| And sweat on your skin
|
| Your hands do the work
|
| And a new day begins
|
| Your bucket is empty
|
| And sweat on your skin |