You never even called me by my name

Well it was all that I could do to keep from crying.
Sometimes it seems so useless to remain.
But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'.
You never even called me by my name.

You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings.
And you don't have to call me Charlie Pride.
And you don't have to call me Merle Haggard anymore,
Even though you're on my fightin' side.

And I'll hang around as long as you will let me.
And I never minded standing in the rain.
But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'.
You never even called me by my name.

Well I've heard my name a few times in your phone book.
(Hello, Hello.)
And I've seen it on signs where I've played.
But the only time I know I'll hear David Allan Coe
Is when Jesus has his final Judgement Day.

So, I'll hang around as long as you will let me.
And I never minded standing in the rain.
But you don't have to call me darlin', darlin'.
You never even called me by my name.

(spoken:)
Well, a friend of mine named Steve Goodman wrote that song,
and he told me it was the perfect country and western song.
I wrote him back a letter and I told him it was not the
perfect country and western song because he hadn't said
anything at all about momma, or trains, or trucks,
or prison or gettin' drunk. Well, he sat down and
wrote another verse to this song and he sent it to me and
after reading it I realized that my friend had written the
perfect country and western song. And I felt obliged to include
it on this album. The last verse goes like this here:

Well, I was drunk the day my momma got out of prison,
And I went to pick her up in the rain.
But before I could get to tye station in the pick-up truck,
She got runned over by a damned old train.

And I'll hang around as long as you will let me.
And I never minded standin' in the rain. Ohhh.
You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'.
You never even called me,
Well I wonder why you don't call me,
Why don't you ever call me by my name?