Son of a Poor Man

Hometown lady, leavin' for the city Bags in hand, she's boardin' the train Her last look through the window, I saw her eyes were as red as mine I waved goodbye but I can't believe she's leaving But a woman can't be high-class in a lonely farmer's town And the son of a poor man may not turn your head around But if you ever get lonely you just pick up the telephone And the son of a poor man will bring you home Maybe soon I'll see her on some television show Painted lips and fingers singing for the world A fashion plate for sure dancin' for your plastic world Call me up if you can but if not well I'll understand But a woman can't be high-class in a lonely farmer's town And the son of a poor man may not turn your head around But if you ever get lonely just pick up the telephone And the son of a poor man will bring you home Hometown lady, leavin' for the city Bags in hand, she's boardin' the train Her last look through the window, I saw her eyes were as red as mine I waved goodbye but I can't believe she's leaving But a woman can't be high-class in a lonely farmer's town And the son of a poor man may not turn your head around But if you ever get lonely you just pick up the telephone And the son of a poor man, and the son of a poor man will bring you And the son of a poor man will bring you down