Mrs. Carver of West Virginia Sole survivor of the quest to end you Left behind her a letter to find Said I'm not coming to California And I took the car so I should probably warn you I left to find her and weather the tide She says blame it on the rolling dice But when you touched me I was cold as ice Blame it on the country song The one that made you think we don't belong And take another over-under for the souls we've wronged Mrs. Carver of West Virginia Second daughter of a prominent fixture Pride of Harvard, blight of the bay Son of silver with a touch for fiction Rushed to print and now in the fifth edition Trying harder, but can't write them the same He says blame it on the whiskey train The pain of all the bills we paid Blame it on the pressure applied And try to get some rest tonight Or take a double to spare the trouble of getting it right Mrs. Carver of West Virginia Who broke your heart and took the best within you Left behind her a letter to find Said I could paint you a perfect picture Of my right to name you with the worst offenders, But the memory of you is getting better with time Like when we drove across the borderline And said we'd play a different role tonight For all the losers when the game let out That say they counted on it raining out And tell the soldier to come on over and let it all out