| her mother was a seamstress
|
| her daddy worked in wood
|
| she went to church on Sunday
|
| just like every good girl should
|
| but who is her confessor now she wears devils hood
|
| is there anyone to hear her
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| sadie my ladie
|
| she’s the heart of the roll
|
| she could have been a sculptor
|
| or made a masterpiece in paint
|
| she could have been a poet
|
| she could have been a saint
|
| but is she any poorer in your eyes for what she ain’t
|
| she can make the midnight shine
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| sadie my ladie
|
| she’s the heart of the roll
|
| so if you’re passin by her window
|
| why don’t you take a look inside
|
| she might need the conversation
|
| or a friend to be her guide
|
| and she won’t try to steal your soul when she takes you for a ride
|
| she’ll just make the midnight shine
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| heart of the roll
|
| sadie my ladie
|
| she’s the heart of the roll |