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Lyrics

She was a level-headed dancer
On the road to alcohol
And I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal

Well, she pressed her chest against me
About the time the juke box broke
Yeah, she give me a peck
On the back of the neck
And these are the words she spoke

Lyrics continue below...

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"Blow up your TV
Throw away your paper
Go to the country
Build you a home
Plant a little garden
Eat a lot of peaches
Try an' find Jesus on your own"

Well, I sat there at the table
And I acted real naive
For I knew that topless lady
Had something up her sleeve

Well, she danced around the bar room
And she did the hoochie-coo
Yeah, she sang her song all night long
Tellin' me what to do

"Blow up your TV
Throw away your paper
Go to the country
Build you a home
Plant a little garden
Eat a lot of peaches
Try an' find Jesus on your own"

Well, I was young and hungry
And about to leave that place
When just as I was leavin'
Well, she looked me in the face

I said, "You must know the answer"
She said, "No, but I'll give it a try"
And to this very day, we've been livin' our way
Here is the reason why

We blew up our TV
Threw away our paper
Went to the country
Built us a home
Had a lot of children
Fed 'em on peaches
They all found Jesus on their own

Writer(s): John Prine, Jeffrey Bradford Kent

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