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