Well, it was all that I could do to keep from cryin'
Sometimes it seems so useless to remain
You don't have to call me darlin'...darlin'
You never even call me by my name.
Well, you don't have to call me Waylon Jennings
And you don't have to call me Charley 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 standin' in the rain.
You don't have to call me darlin'...darlin'
You never even call me by my name.
Well, I've heard my name a few times in your phone book
And I've seen it on signs where I've played
But the only time I know I'll hear David Allen 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 standin' in the rain.
You don't have to call me darlin'...darlin'
You never even call 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 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 gettin' 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 outta 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 runned over by a damned old train.
And I'll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin' in the rain. No,
You don't have to call me darlin'...darlin'
You never even call me
Well, I wonder why you don't call me
Why don't you ever call me by my name?
