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Papa drove a truck nearly all his life...
You know it drove mama crazy being a trucker's wife...
The part she couldn't handle was the being alone...
I guess she needed more to hold than just a telephone...
Papa called mama each and every night...
Just to ask her how she was and if us kids were alright...
Mama would wait for that call to come in...
But when daddy'd hang up she was gone again...
Mama was a looker Lord how she shined...
Papa was a good'n but the jealous kind...
Papa loved mama, mama loved men...Mama's in the graveyard papa's in the pen!!
Well it was bound to happen and one night it did...
Papa came home and it was just us kids ...
He had a dozen roses and a bottle of wine...
If he was looking to surprise us he was doing fine
I heard him cry for mama up and down the hall...
Then I heard a bottle break against the bedroom wall...
That old diesel engine made an eerie sound...
When papa fired it up and headed into town...
Papa loved mama, mama loved men...Mama's in the graveyard papa's in the pen
Well the picture in the paper showed the scene real well...
Papa's rig was buried in the local Motel...
The desk clerk said he saw it all real clear...
He never hit the brakes and he was shifting gears.....
Papa loved mama, mama loved men...Mama's in the graveyard papa's in the pen!!
Above, Papa-Ken just after the crash, and now in Folsom Prison!