When God-Fearin' Women Get The Blues

Lock up your husbands
Lock up your sons
Lock up your whiskey cabinets
Girls lock up your guns
Lock up the beauty shop
No tellin if theyve heard the news
Call the boys downtown at Neiman Marcus
Tell em lock up them high heel shoes
When God-fearin women get the blues
There aint no slap-dab-a-tellin
What theyre gonna do
Run around yellin
Ive got a Mustang
Itll do 80
You dont have to be my baby
Ive stirred my last batch of gravy
You dont 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 Pentacostals
Bring that anointing oil too
Well call the preacher
Hes the only one can reach her
And their aint no time to lose
Repeat Chorus
Shes on all our prayer lists
Shes on all our hearts
As for the Easter cantata
We dont know wholl sing her part
Repeat Chorus