My name's in the paper
Where I took the boy scouts to hike
My hands are all dirty
From working on my little boy's bike
The preacher came by
And I talked for a minute with him
My wife's in the kitchen
And Margie's at the Lincoln Park Inn
And I know why she's there
I've been there before
But I made her a promise
That I wouldn't cheat anymore
I tried to ignore it
But I know she's in there my friend
My mind's on a number
And Margie's at the Lincoln Park Inn
Next Sunday it's my turn
To speak to the young people's class
They expect answers
To all of the questions they ask
What would they say
If I spoke on the modern day sins
And all of the Margies
At all of the Lincoln Park Inns
The bike is all fixed
And my little boy's in bed asleep
His little old puppy
Is curled in a ball at my feet
My wife's baking cookies
To feed to the Bridge Club again
I'm almost out of cigarettes
And Margie's at the Lincoln Park Inn
And I know why she's there