| I dressed up in my best
|
| My Ropers and my vest
|
| And waited by the door with these roses
|
| Till you came walkin' in
|
| With your high falutin' friends
|
| So busy lookin' down your noses
|
| Now here you are ignorin' me
|
| Girl I might as well be
|
| Walkin' to Jerusalem
|
| Marchin' with Methuselah
|
| Readin' signs in Arabic
|
| Ravin' like a lunatic
|
| By the time you tell me I’m the one
|
| I’ll be stickin' out my thumb
|
| And walkin' to Jerusalem
|
| You wore your boots last night
|
| You kissed me and held me tight
|
| You said you’d always be my cowgirl
|
| But tonight you’re hangin' out
|
| With that Christian Dior crowd
|
| So where does that leave me now girl
|
| You’re as cold as Polar regions
|
| I oughta join the French Foreign Legion And Go
|
| Walkin' to Jerusalem
|
| Marchin' with Methuselah
|
| Readin' signs in Arabic
|
| Ravin' like a lunatic
|
| By the time you tell me I’m the one
|
| I’ll be stickin' out my thumb
|
| And walkin' to Jerusalem
|
| I can see me in a long robe
|
| Studyin' the book of Job and
|
| Walkin' to Jerusalem
|
| Marchin' with Methuselah
|
| Readin' signs in Arabic
|
| And ravin' like a lunatic
|
| By the time you tell me I’m the one
|
| I’ll be stickin' out my thumb
|
| And walkin'
|
| By the time you tell me I’m the one
|
| I’ll be stickin' out my thumb
|
| And walkin' to Jerusalem
|
| And walkin' to Jerusalem
|
| And walkin' to Jerusalem |