Martina McBride
Martina McBride - When God-Fearin' Women Get The Blues songtekst
Je score:
Lock up your husbands Lock up your sons Lock up your whiskey cabinets Girls lock up your guns And lock up the beauty shop No telling if they've heard the news Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus Tell 'em lock up them high heels shoes When God-fearin' women get the blues There ain't no slap-dab-a telling what they're gonna do Run around yelling I've got a Mustang, it'll do 80 You don't have to be my baby I've stirred my last batch of gravy You don't have to be my baby Call all the deacons Call the ladies aid Call all the altos, sopranos, tenors Call every bass Well, call all the Pentecostals And bring that anointing oil too Well call the preacher He's the only one can reach her And there's ain't no time to lose When God-fearin' women get the blues There ain't no slap-dab-a telling what they're gonna do Run around yelling I've got a Mustang, it'll do 80 You don't have to be my baby I've stirred my last batch of gravy You don't have to be my baby She's on all our prayer lists She's on all our hearts As for the Easter cantata We don't know who'll sang her part When God-fearin' women get the blues There ain't no slap-dab-a telling what they're gonna do Run around yelling I've got a Mustang, it'll do 80 You don't have to be my baby I've stirred my last batch of gravy You don't have to be my baby