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When God Fearin' Women Get The Blues
Martina Mcbride Song Lyrics
(Leslie Satcher) She was the prom queenHe was the quarterback of the football teamAnd it all looked so promisingWe never thought anything would happen like thisAnd then all of a suddenTwenty-five years of love and devotionDown the drainWe all heard her hollerin'For a country mileCheatin' shows your complete lack of styleWell she took out three parking metersAnd a pedestrian's purseThe day she quit the baptist choirAnd threw that Ford into reverseLock up your husbandsLock up your sonsLock up your whiskey cabinetsGirls lock up your gunsLock up the beauty shopNo tellin' if they've heard the newsCall the boys downtown at Neiman MarcusTell 'em lock up them high heels shoesWhen God-fearin' women get the bluesThere ain't no slap-dab-a tellin'What they're gonna doRun around yellin'I've got a MustangIt'll do 80You don't have to be my babyI've stirred my last batch of gravyYou don't have to be my babyCall all the deaconsCall the ladies aidCall all the altos, sopranos, tenorsCall every bassWell call all the pentecostalsBring that anointing oil tooWell call the preacherHe's the only one can reach herAnd there's ain't no time to loseWhen God-fearin' women get the bluesThere ain't no slap-dab-a tellin'What they're gonna doRun around yellin'I've got a MustangIt'll do 80You don't have to be my babyI've stirred my last batch of gravyYou don't have to be my babyShe's on all our prayer listsShe's on all our heartsAs for the Easter cantataWe don't know who'll sang her partWhen God-fearin' women get the bluesThere ain't no slap-dab-a tellin'What they're gonna doRun around yellin'I've got a MustangIt'll do 80You don't have to be my babyI've stirred my last batch of gravyYou don't have to be my baby |
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