Every time I turn the radio on some cat's singing a happy song About a woman who wakes him up every morning and loves him Scrambles his eggs and unscrambles his life Butters his toast with a golden knife Bears his kids and nearly bout all of his burdens And I just sit there staring at the wall wondering how I missed it all I've been out half of the night and I'm hung over Nobody woke me rubbing my feet Just the sound of a jackhammer out in the street And this ole room ain't exactly a field of clover Am I the only tavern-hopping beer-can-popping fool left in the world Am I the only sad-and-lonely meek-weak-freak without a girl No one to love and make me happy call me baby or call me pappy Am I the only low-and-lonely woman-needing jukebox-feeding Suffering son of a gun left in the world Every time I turn the radio on some cat's singing a happy song About the woman who serves him love on a silver platter Makes his coffee sweet and warm Holds him in her loving arms I look in the mirror and I wonder what's the matter Am I the only tavern-hopping beer-can-popping fool left in the world Am I the only sad-and-lonely meek-weak-freak without a girl No one to love and make me happy call me baby or call me pappy Am I the only low-and-lonely woman-needing jukebox-feeding Suffering son of a gun left in the world