Every time I turn the radio on some cat's singing a happy song
About a woman who wakes him up every morning and loves him
Scrambles his eggs and unscrambles his life
Butters his toast with a golden knife
Bears his kids and nearly bout all of his burdens

And I just sit there staring at the wall wondering how I missed it all
I've been out half of the night and I'm hung over
Nobody woke me rubbing my feet
Just the sound of a jackhammer out in the street
And this ole room ain't exactly a field of clover

Am I the only tavern-hopping beer-can-popping fool left in the world
Am I the only sad-and-lonely meek-weak-freak without a girl
No one to love and make me happy call me baby or call me pappy
Am I the only low-and-lonely woman-needing jukebox-feeding
Suffering son of a gun left in the world

Every time I turn the radio on some cat's singing a happy song
About the woman who serves him love on a silver platter
Makes his coffee sweet and warm
Holds him in her loving arms
I look in the mirror and I wonder what's the matter

Am I the only tavern-hopping beer-can-popping fool left in the world
Am I the only sad-and-lonely meek-weak-freak without a girl
No one to love and make me happy call me baby or call me pappy
Am I the only low-and-lonely woman-needing jukebox-feeding
Suffering son of a gun left in the world