Well she's up against the register with an apron and a spatula,
  Yesterday's deliveries, tickets for the bachelors
  She's a moving violation from her conk down to her shoes,
  Well, it's just an invitation to the blues
      And you feel just like Cagney, she looks like Rita Hayworth
  At the counter of the Schwab's drugstore
  You wonder if she might be single, she's a loner and likes to mingle
  Got to be patient, try and pick up a clue
      She said How you gonna like 'em, over medium or scrambled?,
  You say Anyway's the only way, be careful not to gamble
  On a guy with a suitcase and a ticket getting out of here
  It's a tired bus station and an old pair of shoes
  This ain't nothing but an invitation to the blues
      But you can't take your eyes off her, get another cup of java,
  It's just the way she pours it for you, joking with the customers
  Mercy mercy, Mr. Percy, there ain't nothing back in Jersey
  But a broken-down jalopy of a man I left behind
  And the dream that I was chasing, and a battle with booze
  And an open invitation to the blues
      But she used to have a sugar daddy and a candy-apple Caddy,
  And a bank account and everything, accustomed to the finer things
  He probably left her for a socialite, and he didn't 'cept at night,
  And then he's drunk and never even told her that her cared
  So they took the registration, and the car-keys and her shoes
  And left her with an invitation to the blues
      Cause there's a Continental Trailways leaving local bus tonight, good evening
  You can have my seat, I'm sticking round here for a while
  Get me a room at the Squire, the filling station's hiring,
  And I can eat here every night, what the hell have I got to lose?
  Got a crazy sensation, go or stay? now I gotta choose,
  And I'll accept your invitation to the blues