He was not my father's brother

But he wished that he could be

Told us kids to call him, "Uncle," and we would be his family

He had a wife and kids in Fresno, the youngest one was twenty-four

Dad, had brought him into our house, they didn't want him anymore

He helped us work the family business, building fences in the sun

Worked just like a man of twenty

Till the working day was done

He and Dad would spend their evening, sitting in lawn chairs in the yard

Where they'd drink and toast to Seagrams, Seagrams never went down hard

Won't you wake up Uncle Lloyd

Got a lot of work today

We'll get Don to make the coffee, load that truck and be on our way

Friday night you can drive to Vegas

Maybe this time you will win

Buy a trailer by the river, you won't have to work again

He was sleeping in the workroom, on a mattress on the floor

When one night I heard him crying, as I passed outside his door

He cried, "Rita, girl I love you, Rita, darling, please don't go

I've tried hard to make you happy, I've tried everything I know"

Then, I heard the bottle open, tipping up and putting down

And the rustling of the covers, then he did not make a sound

I thought of thirty years of Rita, standing sternly by his side

All the years of hanging in there, all the emptiness inside

Then, I thought of how their children

Have children of their own

And how a man at fifty-seven

Winds up living so alone

Won't you wake up Uncle Lloyd

Got a lot of work today

We'll get Don to make the coffee, load that truck and be on our way

Friday night you can drive to Vegas

Maybe this time you will win

Buy a trailer by the river, you won't have to work again

Oh, you'll never work again