Faces

Miss Judy, she was moodyOwned a sweaty farm in old
AlabamaI was just eighteen,
crude and meanAnd all I needed was to get my own way,
get my own wayMiss Judy, she could have meAny hour
of the working dayShe'd send me in the corn field,
mid-afternoonSaid "Son, it's all part of your job"Miss
Judy had a peroxide poodleThat I would kick if I was
given the chanceMadam wasn't amused by the kindness
I usedI was whipped in the barn until dawn,
it hurt meLast summer we was restlessWe're gonna make
a stand and burn down your farmBut it was all in the
head 'cause out in the yardMiss Judy had the National
GuardWe was beat before we startedMiss Judy,
she was moodyBut she always didn't get her own wayWe'll
stage a fight, get it rightKick her when she's down