| Every Sunday morning she was passin' by same time
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| On her way to church as I remember
|
| Always wearing a worn out rain coat
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| Its colour lookin' kind of grey
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| Looking kind of grave
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| But to me it looked fine in every way
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| Every day then I spent dreaming about her
|
| And a week seemed so much longer at the time
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| Lord, she gave me such a brand new feeling
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| Burning deep inside
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| It made me wanna reach up in the sky
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| She was my, oh my, my lady
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| My, my Sunday morning lady
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| Her memory once will grow vague in my mind
|
| But never she will quite vanish out of my
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| Out of my life
|
| Many years have gone by
|
| Many songs of love I’ve sung
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| Many of them now seem long forgotten
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| But there’s always a few left of ‘em
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| That we do remember well
|
| How I love them old songs to hear again
|
| Every day then I spend dreaming about her
|
| And a week seemed so much longer at the time
|
| Lord, she gave me such a brand new feeling
|
| Burning deep inside
|
| It made me wanna reach up in the sky
|
| She was my, oh my, my lady
|
| My, my Sunday morning lady
|
| Her memory once will grow vague in my mind
|
| But never she will quite vanish out of my
|
| Out of my life
|
| Out of my life
|
| Out of my life |