| Papa drove a truck nearly all his life
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| You know it drove mama crazy bein' a trucker’s wife
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| The part she couldn’t handle was the bein' alone
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| I guess she needed more to hold than just a telephone
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| Papa called Mama each and every night
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| Just to ask her how she was and if us kids were alright
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| Mama would wait for that call to come in
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| When Daddy’d hang up she was gone again
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| Mama was a looker, Lord, how she shined
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| Papa was a good’n, but the jealous kind
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| Papa loved Mama, Mama loved men
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| Mama’s in the graveyard, Papa’s in the pen
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| Well it was bound to happen and one night it did
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| Papa came home and it was just us kids
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| He had a dozen roses and a bottle of wine
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| If he was lookin' to surprise us he was doin' fine
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| I heard him cry for Mama up and down the hall
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| Then I heard a bottle break against the bedroom wall
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| That old diesel engine made an eerie sound
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| When Papa fired it up and headed into town
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| Well the picture in the paper showed the scene real well
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| Papa’s rig was buried in the local motel
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| The desk clerk said he saw it all real clear
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| He never hit the brakes and he was shiftin' gears
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| Mama was a looker, Lord, how she shined
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| Papa was a good’n, but the jealous kind
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| Papa loved Mama, Mama loved men
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| Mama’s in the graveyard, Papa’s in the pen |