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The butcher and the baker and the undertaker.
The butler and the barber too.
The boy without a liver and the indian giver.
They've all got the main street blues.
The lovers and the lawyers and the self employers
Were in the foyer sniffing glue.
Discussing with a Russian who was munching on a muffin.
All about the main street blues.
And it's oh lordy me, and oh lordy my.
This little town keeps bustlin' on by
The tailor and the teller and the snowball seller.
The preacher in his prison shoes.
They're all trying to figure how to get rid of
Those awful main street blues.
Joan got along and moved to Catahoula.
Got a house out on Johnson's bayou.
She swears she'll have it made if she can manage to evade
Those melancholy main street blues.
The mediocre actor left his paw paw's tractor
Ride a bike down sunset avenue.
The hacker and the slacker and the lazy linebacker
They've all got the main street blues
And it's oh lordy me, and oh lordy my.
This little town keeps bustlin' on by
The promoter's got an odor like a day old floater.
And a pencil whipped????
He's scribbling out ways to emancipate the days
From those awful main street blues