Stumbled across an old green box in my granddaddy's house. Inside was a cross, some old dog tags, and a picture of when he was shipping out.. So I showed it to him, said "tell me about those days".
By the time I get to Phoenix she'll be rising. She'll find the note I left hanging on her door. She'll laugh when she reads the part that says I'm leaving.
Tonight I'm burning old love letters photographs and memories of you. Hoping somehow I'll feel better and when the smoke is gone I won't want you. (Burning mem'ries) teardrops fall while I am.
Found some letters you wrote me this morning they told of the love we once knew. Now they're gone I'd burned them to ashes don't want nothing to remind me of you.
In the Blue Canadian Rockies spring is sighing through the trees. And the golden pupies are blooming round the banks of Lake Luise. Across the way they call me and I'm lonesome and so blue.
Back about eighteen hundred and some a Louisiana couple had a red headed son. No name soothed him Jim Jack or Joe so they just called him Billy Bayou.
I hear your new love sends you pretty something different each day. And he never forgets to call whenever he's away. He sends you candy and flowers tied in ribbons of blue.
You're telling everybody that it's over that our love affair was just a waste of time. Who think I thought I walk in fields of clover. When your sweet love was never really mine.
In eighteen-fourteen we took a little trip. Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississipp'. We took a little bacon and we took a little beans.
You didn't know I wasn't free when you fell in love with me. And with all your young heart you learned to care. (It brought me shame and disgrace the world has tumbled in my place).
I just can't believe you're back here knocking on his door. Sugar, you're not serious to be coming back for more. You know it's almost funny to see you standing there in tears.
Face in the mirror, she's gettin' ready to go. Fussin' with her hair, singin' to the radio. The phone ring, ring, rings as she's slippin' on her jeans.
By the time I get to Phoenix, she'll be risin'. She'll find the note I left hangin' on her door. She'll laugh when she reads the part that says I'm leavin'.
I love the smell of clover. When the winter's over. Yes, I do, yes, I do. But I love you more. . I love the kind of love. Someone can hum the day long.
Way down yonder by the forks of the branch. The old sow whistled and the little pigs danced. Burma Shave, Burma, Burma, Burma Shave. I bet Ive seen a million rows.
Overcharge for excess baggage. Know your concourse, know your gate. Up this way sir, not that way sir. Airplane departs gate six eight. . Please sir may l see your ticket.
Back about eighteen hundred and some. A Louisiana couple had a red headed son. No name suited him, Jim, Jack or Joe. So they just called him Billy Bayou.
l once had a sweetheart, the fairest of maidens. She out shined all others that I'd known by far. I had a friend, big fella, name of Big Harlan Taylor.
I was runnin' through the summer rain. Tryin' to catch that evenin' train. And kill that old familiar pain. Weavin' through my tangled brain. But when I tipped my bottle back.
BABY ME BABY. Writer Roger Miller. . Well I'm stacking up shirts and things. Packin' up and fixin' to go. For some little reason that I can't remember.