Play the karaoke of When God-Fearin' Women Get The Blues
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Lock up your husbands lock up your sons
Lock up your whiskey cabinets
Girls, lock up your guns
Lock up the beauty shop no telling if they've heard the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus
Tell 'em lock up them high-heeled shoes
When God fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin'
I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty you don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last batch of gravy you don't have to be my baby
Call all the deacons call the ladies' aid
Call all the altos, sopranos tenors, call every bass
Well, call all the Pentecostals and bring that anointing oil too
Well call the preacher he's the only one can reach her and there ain't no time to lose
When God fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin'
I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty you don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last batch of gravy you don't have to be my baby
Oh when God fearin' women get the blues
There ain't no slap dab atellin' what they're gonna do
Run around yellin'
I gotta Mustang it'll do eighty you don't have to be my baby
I've stirred my last batch of gravy you don't have to be my baby
Any reproduction is prohibited
as made famous by Martina McBride
Original songwriter : Leslie Winn Satcher
License courtesy of : Sony ATV France
This title is a cover of When God-Fearin' Women Get The Blues as made famous by Martina McBride
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