| She was standing at the load-in when the trucks rolled up She was sniffing all around like a half-grown female pup
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| She wasn’t hard to talk to, looked like she had nowhere to go So I gave her a pass so she could get in to see the show.
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| I sat her down right next to me and I got her a beer
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| While I mixed that sound on the stage so the band could hear
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| The more I watched her watch me play, the less I thought of to say
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| And when they walked offstage the drummer swept that girl away.
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| Rosie, you’re all right, you wear my ring
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| When you hold me tight, Rosie, that’s my thing
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| When you turn out the light I got to hand it to me
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| Looks like it’s me and you again tonight, Rosie.
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| Well, I guess I might have known from the start she’d come for a star
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| But I told my imagination not to run too far
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| Of all the times that I’ve been burned, by now you’d think I’d learn
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| That it’s who you look like, not who you are.
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| Now the seats are all empty, let the roadies take the stage
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| Pack it up and tear it down
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| They’re the first to come and the last to leave
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| Workin’for that minimum wage
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| They’ll set it up in another town.
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| Tonight the people were so fine, they waited there in line
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| And then they got up on their feet and made the show.
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| And that was sweet, and I can hear the sound
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| Of slammin’doors and folding chairs;
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| That’s a sound they’ll never know.
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| And roll them cases out and lift them amps
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| Haul them trusses down and get 'em up those ramps
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| 'Cause when it comes to moving me You know you guys are the champs
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| But when that last guitar’s been packed away
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| You know that I still want to play
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| So just make sure you’ve got it all set to go Before you come for my piano.
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| But the band’s on the bus, and they’re waiting to go We gotta drive all night and do the show in Chicago
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| Or Detroit; |
| I don’t know, we do so many shows in a row
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| And these towns all look the same.
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| We just pass the time in the hotel rooms
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| And wander 'round back stage
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| 'Til those lights come up and we hear that crowd
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| And we remember why we came.
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| Now we got country and western on the bus,
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| We got disco, 8-tracks and cassettes and stereo
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| And we got rural scenes and magazines
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| And we got truckers on c.b.
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| We got Richard Pryor on the video
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| We got time to think of the ones we love
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| While the miles roll away
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| The only time that seems too short
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| Is the time that we get to play.
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| People, you’ve got the power over what we do;
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| You can sit there and wait or you can pull us through.
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| Come along, sing the song, you know that you can’t go wrong
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| 'Cause when the morning sun comes beating down
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| You’re gonna wake up in your town
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| But we’ll be scheduled to appear
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| A thousand miles away from here.
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| People, stay just a little bit longer;
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| We wanna play just a little bit longer
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| Well, the roadie don’t mind
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| And the union don’t mind
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| If we take a little time and we leave it all behind
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| Sing one more song.
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| Oh, won’t you stay just a little bit longer
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| Please, please, please say you will… |