oh this man, this man, this man of minehe's got more 
nickels than he's got dimes
so we climb aboard the ferris wheel
and spin until our wounds are healed
he found me out in bakersfield
drunk and asleep behind the wheel
while somewhere the trees just sit and wait
and curse your name as you hesitate
oh mister, mister, mister grouch
has an angry crooked sort of mouth
he eats and sleeps and guards the gate
puts breakfast on his dinner plates
and hates the way i wear my hair
and beats me up but i don't care
he loves me when i look my best
and turns away when i undress
my limbs won't move without the grease
like i need you to rescue these
little eggs i've left behind
like i'd give you up to make you mine
oh this man, this man, this man of mine
he's got more nickels than he's got dimes
so we climb aboard the ferris wheel
and spin until our wounds are healed