He's a wino, tried and true. Done about everything there is to do. He worked on freighters, he worked in bars. He worked on farms, 'n he worked on cars. It was white port, that put that look in his eye That grown men get when they need to cry And he sat down on the curb to rest And his head just fell down on his chest He said "Every single day it gets A little bit harder to handle and yet. . ." And he lost the thread and his mind got cluttered And the words just rolled off down in the gutter Well he was elevator man in a cheap hotel In exchange for the rent on a one room cell He's old in years beyond his time Thanks to the world, and the white Port wine So he says "Son," he always called me son He said, "Life for you has just begun" And he told me a story that I heard before How he fell in love with a Dallas whore Well he could cut through the years to the very night When it ended, in a whore house fight And she turned his last proposal down In favor of being a girl about town Now it's been seventeen years right in line And he ain't been straight none of the time Too many days of fightin' the weather And too many nights of not being together So he died. . . Well when they went through his personal affects In among the stubs from the welfare checks Was a crumblin' picture of a girl in a door An address in Dallas, and nothin' more The welfare people provided the priest A couple from the mission down the street Sang Amazing Grace, and no one cried ' Cept some woman in black, way off to the side We all left and she was standing there Black veil covering her silver hair And 'ol One- Eyed John said her name was Alice And she used to be a whore in Dallas Let him roar, Lord let him roll Bet he's gone to Dallas Rest his soul Lord, let him roll, Lord let him roar He always said that heaven Was just a Dallas whore.
He's a wino, tried and true. Done about everything there is to do. He worked on freighters, he worked in bars. He worked on farms, 'n he worked on cars. It was white port, that put that look in his eye That grown men get when they need to cry And he sat down on the curb to rest And his head just fell down on his chest He said "Every single day it gets A little bit harder to handle and yet. . ." And he lost the thread and his mind got cluttered And the words just rolled off down in the gutter Well he was elevator man in a cheap hotel In exchange for the rent on a one room cell He's old in years beyond his time Thanks to the world, and the white Port wine So he says "Son," he always called me son He said, "Life for you has just begun" And he told me a story that I heard before How he fell in love with a Dallas whore Well he could cut through the years to the very night When it ended, in a whore house fight And she turned his last proposal down In favor of being a girl about town Now it's been seventeen years right in line And he ain't been straight none of the time Too many days of fightin' the weather And too many nights of not being together So he died. . . Well when they went through his personal affects In among the stubs from the welfare checks Was a crumblin' picture of a girl in a door An address in Dallas, and nothin' more The welfare people provided the priest A couple from the mission down the street Sang Amazing Grace, and no one cried ' Cept some woman in black, way off to the side We all left and she was standing there Black veil covering her silver hair And 'ol One- Eyed John said her name was Alice And she used to be a whore in Dallas Let him roar, Lord let him roll Bet he's gone to Dallas Rest his soul Lord, let him roll, Lord let him roar He always said that heaven Was just a Dallas whore.
