(Kinky Friedman)
She was only a waitress in a highway cafe
Poured coffee from dusk until dawn
But she's heart-broken 24 hours a day
For she longed for her trucker who'd gone
"Will you make it a corned beef on rye"
He'd sing with a gleam in her eye
Oh, the headlights were burning
And the big wheels were turning
Her sweetheart would come by and by
He'd park his great semi off Route 64
She'd blush with a sweet little sigh
For at half past eleven, he'd walk in the door
And order a corned beef on rye
"Will you make it a corned beef on rye"
He'd sing with a gleam in her eye
The jukebox was blarin'
His soft eyes were starin'
And the corned beef would come by and by
All the drivers remember that night, so they say
She'd said her farewells to them all
But when the hands on the clock reached a quarter past twelve
Her suitcase still stood in the hall
And the hours passed by even as the trucks passed by out on the highway
And then two grim Highway Patrolmen came into the place
They shook the rain from their hats
And as the poor girl brought them their coffee
These were the words that they said
"Hey, Curly, did you see that old diesel flattened out
Like your damned nose up by the predicament tonight?
"Well, he jack-knifed that son of a bitch slicker than owl shit!
"I'll have a chilli dog over here, baby.
"Hell, you don't suppose that he had a little ol' hog way down the line somewhere, do you?
"Hey now, Curly, don't you know that them damn truckers
They got to take up a little filly at every cafe from here to Las Cruces!"
Now there is a small truck-stop on Route 64
If you happen to be passin' by
There's a trucker that never stops in anymore
There's a waitress who wished she knew why
"Oh, make it a corned beef on rye"
She sings with a tear in her eye
And as her dark eyes are glistening
There's someone who's listening
In that highway cafe in the sky
"Oh, we'll make you the corned beef on rye"
She sings with a tear in her eye
And as her dark eyes are glistening
There's someone who's listening
In that highway cafe in the sky
