3 acessos
I was sitting in my hotel room, strumming my old guitar.
Not much to do when you're far away, playing some smoky bar.
I was feeling a little empty and feeling a little blue
when the maid came in and asked me if she could do my room.
I put down my old guitar and she gave me a smile.
She had a crusty voice and a drinker's look, but she had a friendly style.
She dusted my room and made my bed and she talked of days gone by.
She spoke of when she wooed the men; a tear came to her eye.
And she said, I used to be a country singer, I could sing a mean Patsy Cline.
My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter, Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine.
She told me that her husband died and her son was overseas.
I could tell by her eyes and her broken smile she was lonely just like me.
She asked me if I'd listen to a tape of when she was young,
she said, I can't sing now I forgot the words and my voice is almost gone.
And she said, I used to be a country singer, I could sing a mean Patsy Cline.
My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter, Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine.
Oh, I cried inside, but I couldn't tell if it was for her or for me.
So I grabbed my axe and we sang a song in two-part harmony.
Ever since that day when I'm feeling down and I can't find a happy tune.
I just think if that maid and the feeling she gave, when she came to clean my room.
And she said, I used to be a country singer, I could sing a mean Patsy Cline.
My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter, Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine.
And she said, I used to be a country singer, I could sing a mean Patsy Cline.
My husband he could yodel like Wilf Carter, Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine,
Kitty Wells was a real good friend of mine.