Chorus: Heather, Heather, you old home wrecker, the boys line up 'cuz you're a double decker. Your face is fine but your past is checkered, Heather, Heather, you old home wrecker.

Well she rolled into town on a ring of fire, shooting off sparks like an electric wire with a money-maker like a ten on the Richter scale. She said 'I come from Texas and my name is Heather, and I sure would like if we could all come together.' The men all sweated while their wives twitched and chewed their nails. She wore a necklace lined with wedding rings; for the next few inches she didn't wear a thing. You'd have thought all the boys in town had broke their jaws. Her dress was tighter than a plumber's vices; she was a walking talking mid-life crisis, and she shook when she giggled like some red-hot Santa Claus.

Now it wasn't long before the trouble started. Sheriff Owens and his dear wife Jane were parted, the picture of marital bliss for thirty years. Next it was Grace Debuke and Minister Sam, Chef Pete and Pauline, Mayor Cliff and Dianne. Soon the lawyer's office was in divorces up to their ears. Now I was a single man, unemployed and alone, and being new to town I didn't have nothing else going, so I decided to do a little digging...

Found a rancher named Buck, he come from Deluth, said he knew Heather well and he's got the proof, had her name branded right across his great divide. Said he met her one night when he was ripe for the plucking. She shined him like the chrome on his pick-up truck. Left him with nothing but that tattoo and a few scraps of his pride. Met another man, name of Blackjack Davey, used to be wild rich, now he's just plumb crazy. Spends his days bouncing pennies down the hospital halls. Every now and then when he pulls it together, starts talking about a woman by the name of Heather, then he's right back shuffling napkins and climbing walls. But the most interesting victim of all was Pete something-or-other, he's from up in St. Paul, said he met Miss Heather just after he won the state lottery. Said she took right to him like a kudzu vine and everything was moving faster than fine 'til he told her one night he'd given all his winnings to charity. "It wasn't," he recalled, "more than ten seconds later, she dropped me like I was a hot potato. Said she'd never bet a bigger fool in her whole life."

Suddenly the pieces they all come together and there clear as day I could see right through Heather: she was a gold digger, and this town was her new gold mine. Oh, the sheriff, the minister, the chef and the mayor; the lottery winner and the blackjack player- they all had the gold ticket to sit in her front row. Judges and generals, princes and kings- my mind went back to that necklace of rings, and I knew just what I had to do, and just how far I'd have to go... CHORUS

Now while Heather was off stroking the banker and all I ran through the back streets to the steps of town hall and I rang that old bell just as loud as I could do it. They all come a-running, the husbands and wives, and I said "folks, it's high time you took back your lives, and maybe saved all your failing marriages too." Then I told them my plan: we'd pool our money and I'd pack it all up and ship it out of the country. Heather's bound to do likewise once she finds out we're nothing but poor. Well, the husbands were weeping and their wives were smiling at the thought of the end of her buxom beguiling, so I told them to come back with all the cash that they had stored... and they did.

Now listener, I know it looks kind of funny, what, trusting a stranger with a town's-worth of money. You might shake your head wondering but take comfort, 'cuz you would be right. And by now I imagine you've got it all figured by the tone of my voice or how this story's configured that Ms. Heather and I are about to run off into the night. See, there's those who say money's the root of all evil, but I've never known a man to follow the devil anywhere he doesn't already want to be lead. You can blame it on the devil, blame it on the weather, but for every hell-fire on wheels like Heather, there's a hundred old boys trade their soul for one night in her bed. Now you can choose to ignore it or not to believe, but it's been this way since the good Lord made Eve. Inside every man there's an Adam looking for his lost bone. Oh the rich and the famous, the high and the mighty, they all come a-running for the fair Aphrodite, and like lambs to the slaughter she knocks 'em right off of their thrones.

Well she rolled into town on a ring of fire, shooting off sparks like an electric wire with a money-maker like a ten on the Richter scale. She said, "I come from Texas and my name is Heather, and I sure would like if we could all come together." And that my friend is the start of a whole 'nother tale...

CHORUS