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   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