| Baby’s got a do rag on her head
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| An old banjo’s under the bed
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| She hates the damn thing
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| But she sure enough loves them blues
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| She says yelling at a flower don’t make it bloom
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| It’s sunlight and water and elbow room
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| But even a rose has got to pay some dues
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| Now the Cross Canadian Ragweed band
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| Call her Mother Hubbard you understand
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| The reason is that’s what and who she is
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| This mother knows the value of vapor rub
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| A belief in God and overdubs
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| And that good tone is more important than the show or the biz
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| Show business is a heartbreaking thing
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| But if you got good tone you can get through the gig
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| Soul Gravy and literature is some of what she prefers
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| Her old Lucky jeans and analog
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| She comes to bed in a negligee
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| Just to discuss Cinema Verite'
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| She’s the only woman I know that likes Reservoir Dogs
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| I mean I liked it but there was some scenes in there that kind of skived me out
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| Well I got two nickels and a paradigm
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| It ain’t spelled right but it rhymes
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| I’m getting desperate I’m about to derail
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| One more thing one last confession
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| The mother asks some touch questions
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| Like when Jesus went to heaven did he leave a vapor trail?
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| Uh, well I don’t rightly know, well that’s too deep for me
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| Baby’s got a do rag on her head
|
| An old banjo’s under the bed
|
| She hates the damn thing
|
| But she sure enough loves them blues |