I was sitting in my hotel room,
Strumming my old guitar,
Not much to do when you're far away,

Playing some smokey bar,
I was feeling a little empty, and,
Feeling a little blue,

When the maid came in and asked me,
If she could do my room


I put down my old guitar, and,
She gave me a smile,
She had a crusty voice, and,

A drinker's look,
But she had a friendly style,
She dusted my room and made my bed,

And she talked of days gone by,
She spoke of when she wooed the men,
A tear came to her eye


And she said...
"I used to be a country singer,

I could sing a mean Patsy Cline,
My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter,
Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine."


She told me that her husband died and her son was overseas,
I could tell by her eyes and her broken smile she was lonely just like me,

She asked me if I'd listen to a tape of when she was young,
She said, "I can't sing now, I forget the words and my voice is almost gone"


And she said...
"I used to be a country singer,
I could sing a mean Patsy Cline,

My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter,
Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine."


Oh I cried inside but I couldn't tell if it was for her or for me,
So I grabbed my axe and we sang a song in two part harmony,
Ever since that day when I'm feeling down and I can't find a happy tune,

I just think of that maid and the feeling she gave when she came to clean my room

And she said...

"I used to be a country singer,
I could sing a mean Patsy Cline,
My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter,

Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine."

"I used to be a country singer,

I could sing a mean Patsy Cline,
My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter,
Kitty Wells was a real good friend of, mine."


Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine.