| She sits there on her front porch every day at 4 o’clock
 | 
| Waving at the traffic that runs up and down the block
 | 
| Her face and hands are wrinkled and her grey hair almost shines
 | 
| Over 50 years have come and gone since she was in her prime.
 | 
| A high school girl in blue jeans stops each Thursday afternoon
 | 
| They talk about life and love and phases of the moon
 | 
| She lets the girl try on her gown she’s kept for all these years
 | 
| She talks about when she was young, her old eyes filled with tears.
 | 
| Didn’t she really thrill them back in 1924
 | 
| Young men fell in love with her
 | 
| When she came through the door
 | 
| Every dance was taken
 | 
| Still they’d ask for just one more
 | 
| Oh she stole their hearts away in 1924
 | 
| She holds a photo album as she rocks there in her chair
 | 
| Here’s the men she almost married — they all look so debonair
 | 
| She remembers all the faces and the night each one proposed
 | 
| It makes her feel so young again as her old eyes slowly close.
 | 
| The papers never said much when the old maid passed away
 | 
| For the man who drove the moving-van it was just another day
 | 
| The florist never understood when the young girl left the store
 | 
| Just why she sent a wreath that said from the class of '24.
 | 
| Didn’t she really thrill them back in 1924
 | 
| Young men fell in love with her
 | 
| When she came through the door
 | 
| Every dance was taken
 | 
| Still they’d ask for just one more
 | 
| Oh she stole their hearts away in 1924.
 | 
| Didn’t she really thrill them back in 1924
 | 
| Young men fell in love with her
 | 
| When she came through the door
 | 
| Every dance was taken
 | 
| Still they’d ask for just one more
 | 
| Oh she stole their hearts away in 1924. |