You're the ol' lady from the society pages

From a small town somewhere I used to be

You owned the paper and a bunch of other stuff

That didn't appeal to me



OL' LADY, OL' LADY OL LADY, OL' LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY



The hospital plans (yer brother drew 'em all)

You ran the paper 'n Charity Ball

Every day on the third or fourth page

There you was. . .you was quite the rage

Somehow, you was all kinda cheap 'n wrong

Just like in a lotta small towns

Where folks like you

Hang around too long

And pass out jobs to yer relatives 'n such

So you all keeps a lot, 'n nobody else

Ever gets too much.. .to speak of. . .

So what? What can you say?

So long as the trash gets picked up

So long as the trash gets locked up

Just so the trash don't stack up

Some day you won't be on page three

Or page four anymore



OL'LADY, OL'LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY OL' LADY, OL' LADY



By the grace of God you had a son

He's the one and only one

He grew up and by and by

He came to be a Beautiful Guy