Armchair Quarterback
Composer(s): B. Russell
Performer(s): Ray Stevens



Well, the season's finally here and the players hit the field 
and every man feels like a boy and every wife could kill
He's been buying beer since August
Running hot and running cold and thirty friends are on alert...
that's all the den will hold!

He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks
The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand 
The Armchair Quarterback he's kind of fun and kind of fat 
The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand

Now if you stand and block the screen you may just lose your life 
and that goes for all thirty friends and the thirty friends' wives 
Then the den falls silent we just need a yard or two 
They wouldn't change that channel now if the Rockett's came on nude 
The announcer agrees with the referee but the den does not at all 
And thirty fists are clinched in hate and pound upon the wall 
Why any fool could see he made that first down when he dived! 
If Howard Cosell came in now he'd never get out alive

'Cause he's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks 
The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand

The wives are all disgusted and they're meeting in the yard 
on their way to wear the numbers off our credit cards (shop, shop, shop)

He's got his six year old son, Billy, sittin' on the floor 
Watching college wrap-up and writing down the scores 
There stands uncle Andy bending empty cans 
"for god sakes, Andy, get that cool one out of Billy's hand!" 
Well, what do you know it's half time where's the bathroom tell me please 
Don't go outside 'cause the neighbors dog bites everything he sees

Well if they make it through the Super Bowl well she'll be happy then 
'cause she'll get back her TV and he'll give up the den 
He'll be tired and incoherent and he will not know his name 
But he'll lift one eyelid just to say: "wake me up for the ol' score game!" 
with a cool one in his hand

Broken pretzles in the rug 
The beer cans could be worse 
She'll clean it up tomorrow and dread September first when once again...ha ha...

The season's finally here and the players hit the field 
And every man feels like a boy and every wife could kill 
He's been buying beer since August running hot and running cold 
And thirty friends are on alert...that's all the den will hold

He's the Armchair Quarterback he's full of beer and full of snacks 
The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand 
Yeah, the Armchair Quarterback he's kind of fun and kind of fat 
The all-american man, with a cool one in his hand

(repeat)