| I work down at Ashbury Hills
|
| Minimum wage, but it pays the bills
|
| Cleanin' floors, and leadin' hymns on Sundays
|
| Catherine Davis, room 303
|
| Sweetest soul ya ever could meet
|
| I bring her mornin' coffee every day
|
| She calls me Raymond, she thinks I’m her son
|
| She tells me «Get washed up for supper before your daddy gets home»
|
| She goes on about the weather, how she can’t believe it’s already 1943
|
| She calls me Raymond, and that’s alright by me She talks about clothes on the line in the summer air
|
| Christmas mornin', and Thanksgiving prayer
|
| And stories of a family that I’ve never had
|
| Sometimes, I find myself wishin' I’d been there
|
| When she calls me Raymond, she thinks I’m her son
|
| She tells me «Get washed up for supper before your daddy gets home»
|
| She goes on about the weather, how she can’t believe it’s already 1943
|
| She calls me Raymond, and that’s alright by me There’s a small white cross in Arlington
|
| Reads «Raymond Davis '71»
|
| Until she can see his face again
|
| I’m gonna fill in the best I can
|
| When she calls me Raymond, she thinks I’m her son
|
| She tells me «Get washed up for supper before your daddy gets home»
|
| She goes on about the weather, how she can’t believe it’s already 1943
|
| She calls me Raymond, and that’s alright by me She calls me Raymond, aand that’s alright by me |