david allan coe
you never even called me by my name
Well, it was all That I could do to keep from crying' Sometimes it seemed so useless to remain But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin' You never even called me by my name  You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings And you don't have to call me Charlie Pride And you don't have to call me Merle Haggard anymore Even though you're on my fighting' side  And I'll hang around as long as you will let me And I never minded standing' in the rain But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin' You never even called me by my name  Well, I've heard my name A few times in your phone book (hello, hello) And I've seen it on signs where I've played But the only time I know I'll hear "David Allan Coe" Is when Jesus has his final judgment day  So I'll hang around as long as you will let me And I never minded standing' in the rain But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin' You never even called me by my name  Well, a friend of mine named Steve Goodman wrote that song And he told me it was the perfect country & western song I wrote him back a letter and I told him it was not the perfect country & western song  Because he hadn't said anything at all about mama Or trains, or trucks, or prison, or getting' drunk Well, he sat down and wrote another verse to the song and he sent it to me And after reading it I realized that my friend had written the perfect country & western song And I felt obliged to include it on this album The last verse goes like this here  Well, I was drunk the day my mom got out of prison And I went to pick her up in the rain But before I could get to the station in my pickup truck She got run over by a damned old train  And I'll hang around as long as you will let me And I never minded standing' in the rain, no But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin' You never even called me Well, I wonder why you don't call me Why don't you ever call me by my name