| Lyrics: | You're the ol' lady from the society pages
From a small town somewhere I used to be
You
owned the paper and a bunch of other stuff
That didn't appeal to me
OL' LADY, OL' LADY
OL LADY, OL' LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY
The hospital plans (yer brother
drew 'em all)
You ran the paper 'n Charity Ball
Every day on the third or fourth
page
There you was. . .you was quite the rage
Somehow, you was all kinda cheap 'n
wrong
Just like in a lotta small towns
Where folks like you
Hang around too long
And
pass out jobs to yer relatives 'n such
So you all keeps a lot, 'n nobody else
Ever gets too
much.. .to speak of. . .
So what? What can you say?
So long as the trash gets picked
up
So long as the trash gets locked up
Just so the trash don't stack up
Some day you
won't be on page three
Or page four anymore
OL'LADY, OL'LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY OL'
LADY, OL' LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY
By the grace of God you had a son
He's the one and
only one
He grew up and by and by
He came to be a Beautiful Guy |
