| Down at the shell shed the boys are pickin' at their pearls
|
| The hole in my mitten lets the rain get in
|
| I bought 22 ounces from the petrol park, waiting at the light
|
| I’m never gonna make it back in time
|
| So Geraldine and me can begin
|
| Before Mister Raymond and his Japanese slippers comes creepin' in
|
| I sit with the fan on my face and sip shandies all day
|
| I learned to sleep standing up so I don’t have to make the bed
|
| No tobacco for my rolling papers, warm water in my cup
|
| I’ll have wait all morning
|
| Before Geraldine and me can begin
|
| Before Mister Raymond and his Japanese slippers’ll come creepin' in
|
| Loaded up with turkey carpets and green glass diamonds
|
| I drove back and forth for five long rolling moons
|
| And everyday and every night I thought of back at home
|
| And I couldn’t get the notion out of my head
|
| That before Geraldine and me could begin
|
| Mister Raymond and his Japanese slippers’d come creepin' in
|
| Everything is always a little late
|
| Trippin' on those Japanese slippers seems to be my fate
|
| It was my job to cut down all the poplar trees
|
| And I’d sit on the stumps and listen to the finches
|
| And look out at the field and eat honey out of the jar
|
| And wonder why it always seemed
|
| Before Geraldine and me could begin
|
| Mister Raymond and his Japanese slippers would come creepin' in |