Hometown lady, leavin' for the city

Bags in hand, she's boardin' the train

Her last look through the window, I saw her eyes were as red as mine

I waved goodbye but I can't believe she's leaving.



But a woman can't be high-class

In a lonely farmer's town

And the son of a poor man

Ain't gonna turn your head around

But if you ever get lonely

Just pick up the telephone

And the son of a poor man will bring you home.



Maybe soon I'll see her on some television show

Painted lips and fingers singing for the world

A fashion plate for sure dancin' for your plastic world

Call me up if you can but if not well I'll understand



But a woman can't be high-class

In a lonely farmer's town

And the son of a poor man

Ain't gonna turn your head around

But if you ever get lonely

Just pick up the telephone

And the son of a poor man will bring you home.