Lyrics Flinty Kind of Woman - Dar Williams

Flinty Kind of Woman

It’s a small town life and I like it
'Cause the bad don’t get in your way
There’s an angry god, they’re gonna strike it
Yeah that’s what we pay him for, that’s why we pray
Well I guess the angry God he was a-fishing
When Molly called me up with the news
Within the space of a week yeah, a pervert or a sex freak
Let the kids take a peek, that’s more than a little cheek
No pun intended, ay-yi-yipee-yipee-yi-yi-ay
Going east of Mississippi got a flinty kind of woman
And you don’t act smart and you don’t touch my children
If the young man wants to see the sun go down
Well there was no time fooling with the trifles
So there was no use in telling the men
They would just go running for their rifles
And then once you got him couldn’t get him again
So peg got a bolt of fishing tackle
And Marge got her gardening clips
And Sally Labiche put her hound on a leash
And the timer on the quiche, she’s kind of nouveau riche
But we like her, ay-yi-yipee-yipee-yi-yi-ay
Going east of Mississippi got a flinty kind of woman
And you don’t act fresh and you don’t touch my children
If the young man wants to see the sun go down
It was the kids who spotted him a running
As we drove through the harbor fog
And that’s when we got our engines gunning
'Cause we knew he was headed for the cranberry bog
We got our hip-high rubber boots strapped on
And molly got the big flashlights out
And by the welcome to new England sign
Got him with the fishing line in the dark smell of brine
Betty said this one is mine
She is ruthless, ay-yi-yipee-yipee-yi-yi-ay
Going east of Mississippi got a flinty kind of woman
And you just say no and you don’t touch my children
If the young man wants to see the sun go down
Well we didn’t have to drag him and a-jail him
'Cause you don’t have to take it so far
When your roots go back to old Salem
And you’ve got a local chapter of the Dar
And now I don’t go tooting on my lobsters
'Cause your pride doesn’t go with your plaid
But it’s a victory won and it couldn’t be done
By the hippy-dippy flaky-shaky fun-in-the-sun
Braless wonders, ay-yi-yipee-yipee-yi-yi-ay
Going east of Mississippi got a flinty kind of woman
And you know your place and you don’t touch my children
If the young man wants to see the sun go down
If the young man wants to see the sun go down