My name is Sam Malone
and I run a bar called Cheers.
Every day this guy comes in and I pour him
lots and lots of beers.
Is there some kind of tab, yes, I do not kid.
Will he pay today? Yeah, right.
But he keeps the bargoers entertained
and he keeps Cliff occupied.

Every bar has its Norm.
Just like every cloud has its storm.
Just like every girl I date has a fine, fine form.
Every bar has its Norm.

I listen to his favorite song
playing on the radio.
Hear the singers got a barrel and
they'll be rolling it out to and fro.
But I wonder, do they know
have they ever seen this guy
who can pack away a gallon of Bud
enough to make a man cry.

I guess every bar has its Norm.
Just like every cloud has its storm.
Just like every girl I date has a fine, fine form.
Every bar has its Norm.

(instrumental break)

Though it's been some years now
his liver still feels no pain.
And each night he comes in through the door
everybody calls his name.

Coach once asked, "How's life treating ya, Norm?"
and I heard the big guy say
"Like I ran over its dog!"
He was really funny that day.
But now I hear the phone is ringing and
he says, "If that's Vera, I'm not here!"
And so he'll sit and watch the game
and drink beer after beer after beer.

I guess every bar has its Norm.
Just like every cloud has its storm.
Just like every girl I date has a fine, fine form.
Every bar has its Norm.