(Hank Card/Kristen Nelson)Darling, do you talk to Irving when you're here alone?What are all these calls to Irvine on the telephone?Just then that phone rang; as I picked it up I knewI handed it to her and said "It's Irving, dear, for you"I'd stolen her away from Irving many years beforeBut she still dreams of Irving; she wants Irving more and moreIt's Irving over breakfast, Irving through the dayEven when we're making loveThere's Irving in the wayShe's got Irving inside her and Irving won't come outThough there's nothing about Irving to write home aboutWhen I hold her and we kissIt's Irving that and Irving thisHer six-letter word for bliss is IrvingShe does not feel strongly about Ogden or EugeneNorman, Austin, Gary, Jackson, Hannibal or DeanRochester, Pierre, Orlando, Sherman, Grant or LeeMarlin, Milton, Bradley, Homer, Troy, St. Paul or meEvery night I wail and weepShe mumbles "Iirngg" in her sleepHow'd it get in her so deep, this Irving?I've always thought that Irving was featureless and blandBut Irving has a hold on her that I can't understandThey'll always be together even when they're miles apartShe's got I-R-V-I-N-G tatooed on her heartShe's got Irving inside her and Irving's there to stay"Irving, Irving, Irving, Irving'"s all that she would sayThough my heart was brokenI heard the word she'd spokenI bought her a bus token back to IrvingThe bus was silver, I was blueAs I bid my love adieuAnd I sadly sent her back to Irving