Luyện nghe bài hát When God-Fearin' Women Get the Blues (Intro)

Lock up your
Lock up sons
Lock up your whiskey cabinets, girls lock up guns
Lock up the beauty shop, and no telling if they've heard the
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus, tell 'em up them high-heeled shoes

When God-Fearin' women get the
ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're gonna do
Run yellin' I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty
You don't have to be my
I've stirred my batch of gravy
You have to be my (be my, be my)

Call all the
Call the aid
all the altos, sopranos, tenors, call every bass
Well, call all the
And bring anointing oil too
Well call the preacher he's the one can reach her
And there ain't no to lose

God-Fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're do
Run yellin' I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty
You have to be my baby
I've stirred my batch of gravy
You have to be my (be my, be my)

She's on all our lists
on all our hearts
As for the cantata
We know who'll sing her part.

When women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're do
Run around I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty
You have to be my baby
stirred my last batch of gravy
You don't to be my (be my, be my)