Fixin' everybody's troubles, everybody's 'cept mine
Somebody must've told 'em that I was doin' fine


Oh, you five and ten cent women with nothin' in your heads
I got a real gal I'm lovin' Lord, and I'll love her till I'm dead
Go away from my door and my window too, right now


Lord, I ain't goin' down to no race track see no sports car run
I don't have no sports car and I don't even care to have one

I can walk anytime around the block

Well, the wind keeps a blowin' me, up and down the street

With my hat in my hand and my boots on my feet
Watch out so you don't step on me


Well, look it here buddy, you wanna be like me
Pull out your six shooter and rob every bank you can see
Tell the judge, I said, it was alright, yeah