Saturday maybe
factory chimney cough yellow smoke
trucks and trains go rumblin
throw down your key from your window hig
your man's out drinkin
neighbours thinking evil
lead by the the lights of your electric fir
your grey slips falls around your fee
and across the sheet your nut brown curls go tumblin
we don't have long before he comes home from the ba
I'll be gone a week of sunday
meet me by the bronze horse or the clock towe
try to come Friday, Saturday mayb
don't cry now you'll freak the bab