Up in the mornin', ready for his job
sing like an angel for his pay.
Yeah, that lucky old son was singing for you
until he went to heaven today.

Sang for us, men and women, and did singing for the kids
and did it 'til he's wrinkled and gray.
Yeah, that lucky old son was singing for you
until he went to heaven today.

Those tunes above, can't you hear him singing?
Never so raw was his hide.
Sent to a cloud, not a saddle blazing.
Taken to paradise.

Play me those records, made long ago
that Frankie Laine made to swing and sway.
Yeah, that lucky old son was singing for you
until he went to heaven today.