LET YOUR FINGERS DO THE WALKINK

In the days of covered wagons 
A man had his own way 
Whether talkin' to a woman 
Or crossing the U.S.A. 
No telephones were ringing 
No angry words exchanged. 
I wish I was back in the saddle now 
Riding on the range. 

CHORUS:

Let your fingers do the walking 
Call me up some time 
I'm listed under Broken Hearts 
Looking for a good time. 
I can't reach out and touch you 
You're hung up on the line 
I'm your disconnected number now 
And you're a private line. 


Well, I used to be so happy, 
When you gave good 'phone. 
I could call you up from anywhere 
For a little bit of home 
But now my heart is aching 
After every call 
By the way you talk you'd think 
You never gave good 'phone at all.

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