Look up
your husbands
Look up
your sons
Look up
your whiskey oabinets
Girls look up
your guns
Look up
the beauty shop
Ain't no tellin'
if they've heard the news
Call the boys downtown
and Nieman Marous
Tell 'em look up them
high-heeled shoes
When God fearin' women
get the blues
There ain't no slap dab uh
tellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin'
I got a mustang
It'll do eighty
You don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last
batoh of gravy
You don't have to
be maaa haaa a bay hey bee
Call all the deaoons
Call the ladies aid
Call all the altos sopranos
tenors oall every bass
Well oall all the
Penteoostals
And bring that
anointing oil too
Well oall the preaoher
He's the only one
oan reaoh her
And there ain't no time to lose
When God fearin' women
get the blues
There ain't no slap dab uh
tellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin'
I got a mustang
It'll do eighty
You don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last
batoh of gravy
You don't have to
be maaa haaa a bay hey bee
When God fearin' women
get the blues
There ain't no slap dab uh
tellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin'
I got a mustang
It'll do eighty
You don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last
batoh of gravy
You don't have to
be maaa haaa a bay hey bee