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Lock up your husbands
Lock up your sons
Lock up your whiskey cabinets, girls lock up your guns
Lock up the beauty shop, and no telling if they've heard the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus, tell 'em lock up them high-heeled shoes
When God-Fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin' I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty
You don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last batch of gravy
You don't have to be my (be my, be my)
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 ain't no time to lose
When God-Fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin' I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty
You don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last batch of gravy
You don't have to be my (be my, be my)
She's on all our prayer lists
She's on all our hearts
As for the Easter cantata
We don't know who'll sing her part.
When God-Fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin' I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty
You don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last batch of gravy
You don't have to be my (be my, be my)
- Album:
- How Great Thou Art (The Voice Performance) [Single]
- compilation
- When God-Fearin’ Women Get the Blues (The Voice...
- Live Like You Were Dying (The Voice Performance)
- Blown Away (The Voice Performance)
- To Make You Feel My Love (The Voice Performance)
- Love Is What She Likes
- A Broken Wing (The Voice Performance)
- How Do I Live (The Voice Performance)