Lounge
Roy rode into Houston on the fifteenth of July.
They'd brought him in to help clean up the town.
He worked the Exxon building down on 21st and main
From the forty-second floor down to the ground.
He worked without a scaffold and he always worked alone,
And everybody knew he was the best.
People'd come from miles around to stand down in the street
And watch the fastest squeegee in the west.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
Roy saw her there one morning on the thirty-seventh floor.
The nameplate on her desk just said, "Marie."
He made sure that he was cleaning the second window from the right
Every Thursday at precisely 10:03.
He'd tap the glass and wave. She'd look up and give a smile.
Every time she did, his heart would swell with pride,
And even though they'd never spoken once, Roy vowed to Heaven
That one day, he'd make that sweet Marie his bride.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
It took him months, but Roy worked up the nerve to bare his soul,
So up he went to ask her for her hand,
And when he reached her window, there she was: his sweet Marie
Wrapped in the arms of the carpet-cleaning man.
He hung there for a moment as his poor heart broke in two
And all his hopes and dreams came crashing down,
Then Roy unhitched his safety line and with a mournful cry,
He raced his final teardrops to the ground.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
And so there ends the tragic tale of squeegee-slingin' Roy,
A lonely soul who loved and died in vain.
He left his mark on Main Street, and no matter how they tried,
They couldn't scrub away that cowboy-colored stain.
On Thursdays, people say, you can still see him up above,
And the echoes of his final cry remain,
And to this day, they tell the tale of the window-washing cowboy
Who loved windows... but he couldn't stand the pain.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
--Da Vinci's Notebook
He worked the Exxon building down on 21st and main
From the forty-second floor down to the ground.
He worked without a scaffold and he always worked alone,
And everybody knew he was the best.
People'd come from miles around to stand down in the street
And watch the fastest squeegee in the west.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
Roy saw her there one morning on the thirty-seventh floor.
The nameplate on her desk just said, "Marie."
He made sure that he was cleaning the second window from the right
Every Thursday at precisely 10:03.
He'd tap the glass and wave. She'd look up and give a smile.
Every time she did, his heart would swell with pride,
And even though they'd never spoken once, Roy vowed to Heaven
That one day, he'd make that sweet Marie his bride.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
It took him months, but Roy worked up the nerve to bare his soul,
So up he went to ask her for her hand,
And when he reached her window, there she was: his sweet Marie
Wrapped in the arms of the carpet-cleaning man.
He hung there for a moment as his poor heart broke in two
And all his hopes and dreams came crashing down,
Then Roy unhitched his safety line and with a mournful cry,
He raced his final teardrops to the ground.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
And so there ends the tragic tale of squeegee-slingin' Roy,
A lonely soul who loved and died in vain.
He left his mark on Main Street, and no matter how they tried,
They couldn't scrub away that cowboy-colored stain.
On Thursdays, people say, you can still see him up above,
And the echoes of his final cry remain,
And to this day, they tell the tale of the window-washing cowboy
Who loved windows... but he couldn't stand the pain.
Window-washin' cowboy, make 'em shiny clean!
Windex and a squeegee in your hand!
You'll never find another love like your sweet Marie
From Abilene down to the Rio Grande!
--Da Vinci's Notebook
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