Written by Leslie Satcher
Prelude N.C. “She was the prom queen he was a quarter back of the football team N.C. and it all looked so promising, we never thought anything 'ud happen like this N.C. and then, all of a sudden, twenty five years of love and devotion, down the drain.” Intro D A Hummm we all heard her hollering, for a country mile, D G Cheatin' sure shows a complete lack of style, D A Well she, took out three parking meters, and a pedestrians purse, C G D The day she quit the Baptist choir and threw that Ford into reverse. verse 1 D Lock up your Husbands, lock up your Sons, D Lock up your whiskey cabinets, and girls lock up your guns, D Lock up the beauty shop there's no tellin' if they've heard the news, D N.C. D N.C. D N.C. D Call the boy's downtown and Neiman Marcus tell 'em lock up them high heeled shoes,verse 2 D Call all the Deacons, call the Ladies aid, D Call all the altos sopranos tenors call every bass, D Well, call all the Pentecostals, and bring that anointing oil too, D N.C. D N.C. D N.C. D Well, call the Preacher he's the only could reach her and there ain't no time to lose.Bm G D When God fearin' women get the blues, G A There ain't no slap dabb a tellin' what they're gonna do, Run around yellin', D G A D I got a Mustang it'll do 80, you don't have to be my Baby, D G A D I stirrd my last batch of crazy, you don't have to be my . . . . . . . . . . Bay hay bee.Interlude D G A A D G A A Bm N.C. Bm N.C. She's on all our prayer lists, She's on all our hearts, G N.C. A N.C. As for the Easter Cantata, We don't know who'll sing her part. D D D D 'Let's go girl'.Bm G D When God fearin' women get the blues, G A There ain't no slap dabb a tellin' what they're gonna do, Run around yellin', D G A D I got a Mustang it'll do 80, you don't have to be my Baby, D G A D I stood my last batch of crazy, you don't have to be my . . . . . . . . . . Bay hay bee.Outro DBm G D When God fearin' women get the blues, G A There ain't no slap dabb a tellin' what they're gonna do, Run around yellin', D G A D I got a Mustang it'll do 80, you don't have to be my Baby, D G A D I stood my last batch of crazy, you don't have to be my . . . . . . . . . . Bay hay bee.