Clem the bartender sits on his fender
12-gauge in his hand
while Purvis the mayor combs back his "hayor"
and stares at my rusty old van
I have just broken down in a small Southern town
with my luck that was not to be trusted
and now Claymore the sheriff pulls out a large pair of
handcuffs and says, "Boy, you are busted."

Things are not going well: I am now in a cell
with a wino named Thunderbird Turner
whose breath is so stale I would sooner inhale
half an inch from an unlit gas burner
I say, "Pardon me, sir, but I'm not really sure
how I got in this whole situation"
he just digs in his nose and says, "Anything goes"
thus ending our brief conversation

CHORUS

So won't you join in my song of
eternal despair
and despite my complaining I don't really care
if it were not for down I'd have no place to fall
and if it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all

It is now time for dinner and it looks like a winner
don't laugh, 'cause this just isn't funny
it's a plate with a pool of unspecified gruel
and some water the color of money
so I scream out to all, "Don't I get one phone call?
You're not dealing with some kinda yokel!"
Then the sheriff strolls in with a @#%&-eating grin
he says, "Sure kid, long as it's local."

Oh my Lordy, my dear,a things are suddenly clear
I have noticed a large wanted poster
hanging over the desk, looking quite Manson-esque
is a killer called "Tommy the Toaster"
Seven times he has fried, but he still has not died
now he's recently sprung himself free
and by coincidence, there's a strange resemblance
between Tommy the Toaster and me

CHORUS

There are times when a man has done all that he can
and he turns to his maker for solace
but my prayers to our Lord were so soundly ignored
that I prayed to their Governor Wallace
and then that very night Sheriff Claymore B. White
in the lock of my cell turned his key
justice can't be denied and the door opened wide!
and Thunderbird Turner went free

Left alone in my cell of this Hellhole Hotel
my blackest of hopes fast a-dimmin'
in walks Peterbilt Dan, a truck-drivin' man
who was born to eat grits and leave women
as he screamed and he cussed, "My fuzzbuster bust!"
the cell door snapped shut like a jaw
he took one look at me and said,
"Lordy be, it's the sucker who butchered my Pa!"

CHORUS

All this turmoil and strain puts the soul in great pain
and is furthermore bad for digestion
I did best to emote as he clung to my throat
that I was not the Toaster in question
He said, "Pass just one test and I'll lay this to rest..."
as he pulled a hair-pin from his pocket
"I'll know you're alright if you glow like a light
when you stick this in that there socket!"

CHORUS

to be continued...