The Pugilist At 59 - Tom Russell

Rolled out of bed, threw some water on my face

Twenty-five sit-ups and I run in place

I put the coffee on but the pot ain’t clean

Yeah, all you little devils of alcohol and caffeine

A handful of vitamins, drop them on the floor

My ex-girlfriends are laughin' from the icebox door

I put their photos up there, yeah, we talk all the time

But they ain’t talkin' back now, the pugilist is 59

Cold chicken salad, a glass of iced tea

Phone bills, gas bills, electricity

And the mortgage and the junk mail, one old Father’s Day card

Yeah, go sweat it out, kid, it’s 108 in the yard

Water the lawn, trim them old trees

Pray that your gut don’t fall down to your knees

And Archie Moore whispers in your ear: Get up, kid, you’re in your prime

Now, now the champ’s on the ropes, Arch, the pugilist is 59

And the rock and the roll

And the fight for your soul goes on and on

You put on the gloves

You’re always ready for love

Pray your passion ain’t used up and gone, yeah

The harder we love, the harder we fall

It’s cauliflower hearts and old medicine balls

And back street affairs in all the water tank towns

Well, there’s a mighty thin line between a heavyweight champ and a used up old

clown

But this is Hollywood, kid, fear strikes out

Miracles turn around one-sided bouts

Get off the floor, kid, the sweet science of them old romantic lines

Hey, the champ’s comin' back, boys, the pugilist is 59

And the rock and the roll

And the fight for your soul goes on and on

You put on the gloves

You’re always ready for love

Pray your passion ain’t used up and gone, yeah

Roll out of bed, water on your face

Twenty-five sit-ups — run in place

You put the coffee on but the pot ain’t clean

I said, all you little devils of alcohol and caffeine

Yeah, all you little devils of alcohol and caffeine

I said, all you little devils of alcohol and caffeine