Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did
Got what I paid for now
See ya tomorrow, hey Frank can I borrow
A couple of bucks from you?
To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me

I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley
And tired of all these soldiers here
No one speaks English and everything's broken
And my Stacys are soaking wet
To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me


Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cab's parking
A lot they can do for me
I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open
And I'm down on my knees tonight
Old Bushmill's I staggered, you buried the dagger
Your silhouette window light
To go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me

Now I lost my Saint Christopher now that I've kissed her
And the one-armed bandit knows
And the maverick Chinaman and the cold-blooded signs
And the girls down by the strip-tease shows
Go, waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me

No, I don't want your sympathy
The fugitives say that the streets aren't for dreaming now
Manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories
They want a piece of the action anyhow
Go, waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me

And you can ask any sailor and the keys from the jailor
And the old men in wheelchairs know
That Matilda's the defendant, she killed about a hundred
And she follows wherever you may go
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You'll go a waltzing Matilda with me

And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace
And a wound that will never heal
No prima donna, the perfume is on
An old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey
And goodnight to the street sweepers
The night watchman flame keepers and goodnight to Matilda too

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Well, I'm a jitterbug boy by the shoe-shine
Resting on my laurels and my Hardys too
Life of Riley on a swing shift, gears follow my drift
Once upon a time I was in show-biz too

I seen the Brooklyn Dodgers playin at Ebbets Field
Seen the Kentucky Derby too
It's fast women, slow horses, I'm reliable sources
And I'm holding up a lamp post if you want to know
I seen the Wabash Cannonball, buddy, I've done it all

Because I slept with the lions and Marilyn Monroe
Had breakfast in the eye of a hurricane
Fought Rocky Marciano, played Minnesota Fats
Burned a hundred-dollar bills
I eaten Mulligan stew, got drunk with Louis Armstrong
What's that old song?
I taught Mickey Mantle everything that he knows

So you'll ask me what I'm doing here
Holding up a lamp post, flipping this quarter
Trying to make up my mind
And if it's heads I'll go to Tennessee
And tails I'll buy a drink
If it lands on the edge I'll keep talking to you

Well, I wish I was in New Orleans
I can see it in my dreams
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy
A bottle and my friends and me
Hoist up a few tall cool ones
Play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home
And I can hear the band begin
'When the Saints Go Marching In'
By the whiskers on my chin
New Orleans, I'll be there

I'll drink you under the table
Be red nose go for walks
The old haunts what I wants
Is red beans and rice
And wear the dress I like so well
And meet me at the old saloon
Make sure there's a Dixie moon
New Orleans, I'll be there

And deal the cards roll the dice
If it ain't that ole Chuck E. Weiss
And Clayborn Avenue me and you
Sam Jones and all
And I wish I was in New Orleans
Cause I can see it in my dreams
Arm-in-arm down Burgundy
A bottle and my friends and me
New Orleans, I'll be there

The piano has been drinking
My necktie's asleep
And the combo went back to New York
The jukebox has to take a leak
And the carpet needs a haircut
And the spotlight looks like a prison break
Cause the telephone's out of cigarettes
And the balcony's on the make
And the piano has been drinking
The piano has been drinking

And the menus are all freezing
And the lightman's blind in one eye
And he can't see out of the other
And the piano-tuner's got a hearing aid
And he showed up with his mother
And the piano has been drinking
The piano has been drinking

Cause the bouncer is a Sumo wrestler
Cream puff casper milk toast
And the owner is a mental midget
With the I.Q. of a fencepost
Cause the piano has been drinking
The piano has been drinking

And you can't find your waitress
With a Geiger counter
And she hates you and your friends
And you just can't get served
Without her
And the box-office is drooling
And the bar stools are on fire
And the newspapers were fooling
And the ash-trays have retired
Cause the piano has been drinking
The piano has been drinking
The piano has been drinking
Not me, not me, not me, not me, not me

Well she's up against the register
With an apron and a spatula
With yesterday's deliveries
And the tickets for the Bachelors
She's a moving violation
From her conk down to her shoes
But it's just an invitation to the blues

And you feel just like Cagney
She looks like Rita Hayworth
At the counter of the Schwab's drug store
You wonder if she might be single
She's a loner likes to mingle
Got to be patient and pick up a clue

She says howyougonnalikem
Over medium or scrambled
Cause anyway's the only way
Be careful not to gamble
On a guy with a suitcase
And a ticket gettin out of here
In a tired bus station 
In an old pair of shoes
This ain't nothing but an
Invitation to the blues

But you can't take your eyes off her
Get another cup of java
And it's just the way she pours it for you
Joking with the customers
Mercy mercy Mr Percy
There ain't nothin back in Jersey
But a broken-down jalopy of a
Man I left behind
And a dream that I was chasin
A battle with booze
And an open invitation to the blues

But she's had a sugar daddy
And a candy apple Caddy
And a bank account and everything
Accustom to the finer things
He probably left her for a socialite
And he didn't love her 'cept at night
And then he's drunk and never
Even told her that he cared
So they took the registration
And the car-keys and her shoes
And left her with an invitation
To the blues

'Cause there's a Continental Trailways leaving
Local bus tonight, good evening
You can have my seat
I'm stickin round here for a while
Get me a room at the Squire
The filling station's hiring
And I can eat here every night
What the hell have I got to lose
Got a crazy sensation
Go or stay and I've got to choose
And I'll accept your invitation to the blues

Smelling like a brewery
Looking like a tramp
I ain't got a quarter
Got a postage stamp
Been five o'clock shadow boxing
All around the town
Talking with the old men
Sleeping on the ground
Bazanti bootin
al zootin al hooting
Al Cohn
Sharin this apartment
With a telephone pole
And fish-net stockings
Spike-heel shoes
Strip tease, prick tease
car kease blues
And the porno floor show
Live nude girls
Dreamy and creamy 
And the brunette curls
Chesty Morgan and a
Watermelon Rose
Raise my rent and take off
All your clothes
With the trench coats
Magazines a bottle full of rum
She's so good, it make 
A dead man cum, with
Pasties and a g-string
Beer and a shot
Portland through a shot glass 
And a Buffalo squeeze
Wrinkles and cherry 
And twinky and pinky
And FeFe live from Gay Paree
Fanfares rim shots 
Back stage who cares
All this hot burlesque for me

Cleavage, cleavage thighs and hips
From the nape of her neck 
To the lip stick lips
Chopped and channeled 
And lowered and louvered
And a cheater slicks 
And baby moons
She's hot and ready
And creamy and sugared
And the band is awful 
And so are the tunes

Crawlin on her belly shakin like jelly
And I'm getting harder than 
Chinese algebraziers and cheers
From the compendium here
Hey sweet heart they're yellin for more
Squashing out your cigarette butts 
On the floor
And I like Shelly
You like Jane
What was the girl with the snake skins name
It's an early bird matinee
Come back any day
Getcha little sompin
That cha can't get at home
Getcha little sompin
That cha can't get at home
It's pasties and a g-string
Beer and a shot
Portland through a shot glass 
And a Buffalo squeeze
Popcorn, front row
Higher than a kite
And I'll be back tomorrow night
And I'll be back tomorrow night

Well I got a bad liver and a broken heart
Yea I drunk me a river since you tore me apart
And I don't have a drinking problem
'Cept when I can't get a drink
And I wish you'd a known her
We were quite a pair
She was sharp as a razor 
And soft as a prayer
So welcome to the continuing saga
She was my better half 
And I was just a dog
And so here am I slumped
I been chippied I been chumped 
On my stool
So buy this fool, some spirits and libations
It's these railroad station bars
With all these conductors and the porters
And I'm all out of quarters
And this epitaph is the aftermath
Yea I choose my path
Hey come on Cath, he's a lawyer
He ain't the one for ya
And no the moon ain't romantic
It's intimidating as hell
And some guy's trying to sell 
Me a watch
And so I'll meet you at the 
Bottom of a bottle of 
Bargain Scotch
I got me a bottle and a dream
It's so maudlin it seems

You can name your poison
Go on ahead and make some noise
I ain't sentimental
This ain't a purchase it's a rental
And it's purgatory, hey
What's your story, well
I don't even care
Cause I got my own double-cross to bear

Well I'll see your Red Label
And I'll raise you one more
And you can pour me a cab
I just can't drink no more
Cause it don't douse the flames
That are started by dames
It ain't like asbestos
It don't do nothing but
Rest us assured
And substantiate the rumors
That you've heard

Well the jigolo's jumpin salty
Ain't no trade out on the streets
Half past the unlucky
And the hawk's a front-row seat
Dressed in full orquestration
Stage door Johnnys got to pay
And sent him home 
Talking bout the one that got away

Could a been on easy street
Could a been a wheel
With irons in the fire 
And all them business deals
But the last of the big-time losers 
Shouted before he drove away
I'll be right back as soon as I crack 
The one that got away

The ambulance drivers don't give a shit
They just want to get off work
And the short stop and the victim 
Already gone berserk
And the shroud-tailor measures him 
For a deep-six holiday
The stiff is froze, the case is closed 
On the one that got away

Jim Crow's directing traffic 
With them cemetery blues
With them peculiar looking trousers
Them old Italian shoes
And the he wooden kimona was all ready 
To drop in San Francisco Bay
But he's mumbling something 
All about the one that got away

Costello was the champion 
At the St. Moritz Hotel
And the best this side of Fairfax
Reliable sources tell
But his reputation is at large
And he's at Ben Frank's every day
Waiting for the one that got away

He's got a snake skin sportshirt
And he looks like Vincent Price
With a little piece of chicken 
And he's carving off a slice
But someone tipped her off 
She'll be doing a Houdini now any day
She shook his hustle
And a Greyhound bus'll 
Take the one that got away

Andre is at the piano 
behind the Ivar in the sewers
With a buck a shot for pop tunes
And a fin for guided tours
He could of been in Casablanca
He stood in line out there all day
But now he's spilling whiskey 
And learning songs about the one that got away

Well I've lost my equilibrium 
My car keys and my pride
The tattoo parlor's warm 
And so I huddle there inside
Then grinding of the buzz saw
Whatchuwanthathingtosay
I said, just don't misspell her name
Buddy she's the one that got away

Small change got rained on with his own .38
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquise weren't weeping
They went stark-raving mad
And the cabbies were the only ones 
That really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted
And the sirens high and shrill
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannikins with their
Cheshire grins
And the raconteurs 
And roustabouts said buddy
Come on in
Cause, cause the dreams ain't broken down here now
Now, they're walking with a limp
Now that small change got rained on with his own .38

And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are tellin' jokes 
About some whore house in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the 5th Amendment
And the furniture's bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox 
On an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on 42nd Street
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic 
With stains on his pants
Cause, cause small change got rained on with his own .38

And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket
Circled "Blue Boots" in the 3rd
And the cashier at the clothing store 
He didn't say a word as the
Siren tears the night in half
And someone lost his wallet
Well it's surveillance of assailants 
If that's whatchawannacallit
And the whores hike up their skirts 
And fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like 
Razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming 
And her teeth are in a wreck
Now she won't let you kiss her
But what the hell do you expect
And the Gypsies are tragic and if you 
Wanna to buy perfume, well
They'll bark you down like 
Carneys... sell you Christmas cards in June
But, but small change got rained on with his own .38

And his headstone's 
A gumball machine
No more chewing gum 
Or baseball cards or
overcoats or dreams and
someone is hosing down the sidewalk
and he's only in his teens
Cause, cause small change got rained on with his own .38

And a fistful of dollars can't change that
And someone copped his watch fob
And someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men 
At the Nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south 
Until this whole thing cools off cause
Small change got rained on with his own .38
Yea small change got rained on with his own .38

Well I don't mind working
Cause I used to be jerkin off
Most of my time in the bars
I've been a cabbie and a stock clerk
And a soda fountain jock jerk
And a manic mechanic on cars
It's nice work if you can get it
Now who the hell said it
I got money to spend on my gal
But the work never stops
And I'll be busting my chops
Working for Joe and Sal

And I can't wait to get off work 
And see my baby
She said she'd leave the porch lite
On for me
I'm disheveled I'm disdainful
I'm distracted and it's painful
But this job sweeping up here is
Is gainfully employing me tonight

Tom do this, Tom do that
Tom, don't do that
Count the cash, clean the oven
Dump the trash oh your lovin
Is a rare and a copasetic gift
And I'm a moonlight watchmanic
It's hard to be romantic
(sweeping up over by the
cigarette machine
sweeping up over by the cigarette machine)

I can't wait to get off work 
To see my baby
She'll be waiting up with a magazine for me
Clean the bathrooms, clean um good
Oh your lovin I wish you would
Come down here and sweepameoffmyfeet
This broom'll have to be my baby
If I hurry, I just might
Get off before the dawns early light