(Guy Clark)

Let him roll, Lord, let him roar

He always said that heaven was just a Dallas whore.

He was a wino tried and true

Done about everything there is to do

He worked on freighters he worked in bars

He worked on farms and he worked on cars.

It was white port that put that look in his eye

That grown men get when they need to cry

He sat down on the curb to rest

And his head just fell down on his chest.

He said every single day it gets

A little bit harder to handle and yet

And he lost the thread and his mind got cluttered

And the words just rolled off down in the gutter.

He was elevator man in a cheap hotel

In exchange for the rent on a one room cell

He's old in years beyond his time

Thanks to the world and the white Port wine.

So he says son he always called me son

He said life for you has just begun

And he told me a story that I'd heard before

How he fell in love with a Dallas whore.

He could cut through the years to the very night

When it ended in a whore house fight

And she turned his last proposal down

In favor of being a girl about town.

Now it's been seventeen years right in line

And he ain't been straight none of the time

Too many days of fightin' the weather

And too many nights of not being together.

So he died.

--- Instrumental ---

When they went through his personal affects

In among the stubs from the welfare checks

Was a crumblin' picture of a girl in a door

An address in Dallas and nothin' more.

The welfare people provided the priest

A couple from the mission down the street

Sang Amazing Grace and no one cried

Cept some lady in black way off to the side.

We all left and she was standing there

Black veil coverin' her silver hair

And 'ol ene-eyed John said her name was Alice

And she used to be a whore in Dallas.

Let him roar, Lord, let him roll

Bet he's gone to Dallas rest his soul

Lord let him roll Lord let him roar

He always said that heaven was just a Dallas whore.

Let him roar, Lord, let him roll

I bet he's gone to Dallas rest his soul...