Well it was all that I could do to keep from crying.

Sometimes it seems 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 fightin' 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 Judgement 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.



(spoken:)

Well, a friend of mine named Steve Goodman wrote that song,

and he told me it was the perfect country and western song.

I wrote him back a letter and I told him it was not the

perfect country and western song because he hadn't said

anything at all about momma, or trains, or trucks,

or prison or gettin' drunk. Well, he sat down and

wrote another verse to this song and he sent it to me and

after reading it I realized that my friend had written the

perfect country and 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 momma got out of prison,

And I went to pick her up in the rain.-ac