King of the Road
Roger Miller
This song became part of my repertoire, and of my family’s, probably in the mid to late 60s. We had a few songs that were sort of party pieces that we had lots of fun with. I remember singing it unaccompanied with my brother Chris (we were grown up) and repeating the final ‘King of the road’ several times, fading out in complete unison.
It also became part of the set of songs Dion and I called The Train Songs – King of the Road, The Gambler, City of New Orleans and Hobo’s Lullaby
As I write this in 2010, it’s the eleventh anniversary of the death of Dion. I have not been able to do these as a set since his death.
Postscript: I did start singing these again around 2016, sometimes with a bit of a lump in my throat. I’m pleased to now be able to put these on this site.
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let fifty cents
No phone no pool no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but, two hours of pushing broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the Road.
Third boxcar midnight train
Destination Bangor, Maine
Old worn out suit and shoes
I don't pay no union dues
I smoke old stogies I have found
Short but not too big around
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the Road.
I know every engineer on every train
All of their children and all of their names
Every handout in every town
And every lock that ain't locked when no one's around
I sing, trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let fifty cents
No phone no pool no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but, two hours of pushing broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the Road.
Special Outings
When Dad was getting ready for bed, he would deposit the change from his trousers in the top drawer of the dresser. A couple of times a year, there would be enough for a special outing. Usually, that would be booking a hotel room in Boston and taking Mum out for dinner and a show.
Sometimes, he would take the whole family out to a restaurant. I remember two of these in particular.
When I was about 11, he took us to a really fancy Italian restaurant in Boston. We sat at a huge polished wooden table in carver chairs. Some of the smaller kids had some sort of booster seat, which may actually have been phone books. In those days, phone books were about 3 inches thick. We had large, red linen napkins tied around our necks, including the grown-ups!
I don’t remember much about the meal but it was the first time I had experienced being waited on.
I should mention here that as a group of children, we were very well-behaved when we were out in public. Even at home, there were strict rules about behavior at the dinner table. Nobody started eating until everyone was served and permission granted. You never reached across someone if you wanted the salt or the mustard. No elbows on the table, no talking with food in your mouth. When your meal was finished, you asked permission to leave the table. This latter requirement did test us sometimes if Dad and Mum were deep in discussion and didn’t seem to notice you were wriggling in your seat, impatient to get away.
Dad’s first job in Australia was a salesman for Drug House Australia, which he started not long after we arrived and had moved to Surrey Hills. A couple of months after he had started work, he took us to Sukiyaki House in Alfred Place in Melbourne’s CDB. The low-set tables were over a recess in the floor, so we didn’t have to kneel, but sat on the floor with our legs dangling into the recess. The food was cooked on a portable brazier next to the table. It was our first experience of Japanese food and we loved it! I remember that the bill was equivalent to what we were paying a week for rent.
Things didn’t go so well for my parents financially, and after that, there were no more special outings for the kids. Dad managed to take my mother out now and then, but there were no more hotel rooms and fancy restaurants.
