Mrs. Steven Rudy

I get up on Sunday, about eight-fifteen Just to get the paper that I never read 'Cause I know she'll be there barely in her robe Sittin' on her front porch paintin' on her toes Her husband's always on the road Hey, Mrs. Steven Rudy You don't know what you do to me Every night I dream one day of being with you Hey, Mrs. Steven Rudy You're the neighborhood beauty And that wedding ring is as ugly as your husband is to you Sometimes Mrs. Rudy calls cryin' late at night 'Cause her and Mr. Ugly have had another fight We talk a while, and I hear her smile When she says thank you, I tell her that she's welcome