A D A I get up on Sundays a-bout eight fif-teenA D A Just to get the paper that I never readA D A Cause I know she'll be there barely in her robeA D A Sittin' on her front porch painting on her toesE Her husband always on the road [Chorus]A D E D Hey Mrs. Steven Ruby you don't know what you do to meD E D A Every night I dream one day of being with youA D E D Hey Mrs. Steven Rudy you're the neighborhood's beautyA D EA But that wedding ring's as ugly as your husband is to youA A E D A A E DA D A Sometimes Mrs. Rudy calls crying late at nightA D A Cause he and Mr. Ugly have had another fightA D A We talk awhile I hear her smile then she says thank youA D E A I tell her that she's welcome like any friend would doE I only wish that she knew Go to chorusA A A E A A A A E A D A I-mag-i-na-tion, in-fat-u-a-tion I'm what she deservesA A A E A A A A E A D AE I won-der if she thinks a-bout me the way I think about her
Mrs Steven Rudy
Mark Mcguinn
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Continua depois do anúncio
Tom: