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 jukebox broke.
Yeah, she gave me a peck on the back of the neck,
And these are the words she spoke.
Blow up your T.V Throw away your paper.
Go to the country. Build you a home.
Plant a little garden. Eat a lotta 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 hoochy-coo.
Yeah she sang her song all night long, tellin' me what to do.
Blow up your T.V. 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.
And here is the reason why.
We blew up our T.V. 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.