There's a place called Joe's where some of us go   When the hard working day is through   Through the neon and smoke, we laugh and tell jokes   And throw down a cold one or two      There's a jukebox that's full of records   By Willie, Haggard and Jones   There's a picture of Elvis and ol' John Wayne   Hanging side by side on the wall      Down at Joe's place, it's still the old way   Pickled eggs in a jar and a blue ribbon sign   Ol' boys and bankers sitting side by side   Down at Joe's place, down at Joe's place      Along about midnight, a few hangers on   Are still hanging out at the bar   If the telephone rings, it's an understood thing   Joe don't know where they are      At a table in the corner   There's a young man and an empty chair   His head in his hands, tears in his eyes   And a girlfriend's ring lying there      Down at Joe's place, it's still the old way   Pickled eggs in a jar and a blue ribbon sign   Ol' boys and bankers sitting side by side   Down at Joe's place, down at Joe's place      Pickled eggs in a jar and a blue ribbon sign   Ol' boys and bankers sitting side by side   Down at Joe's place, down at Joe's place   Joe's place, let's go to Joe's place