Ethel's dead,
She used to call me Colonel,
And give me the Confederate salute,
I am a genuine, chicken-fried Kentucky Colonel,
And no one else always called me by my rank.
She patted my dumb dog's head,
And smiled at me,
With her large hazel eyes,
That told me she knew,
How much I missed my mother,
But she didn't know,
That she was bound for the land,
That all mothers go to,
Especially mothers named Ethel.

She had a reservation,
On the Sunset Express,
Not the Sunset Ltd.
That was the Southern Pacific,
Got it at the Pennsylvania Station,
On the heart-attack line
Ethel -- you were lucky!