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The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan  Marianne Faithfull



[E]The morning sun touched gently on [E7]
the e[A]yes of Lucy Jo[E]rdan
in a white suburban bedroom
in a wh[B]ite suburban town.   [B7]
As she l[E]ay there 'neath the covers [E7]
dreaming [A]of a thousand lo[E]vers
till the wo[B]rld turned to orange   [B7]
and the room went spinning ro[E]und.  [E7]

At the a[A]ge of thirty-seven
she rea[E]lized she'd never ride

through Paris in a sports car
with the worm wind in her h[B]air.

So she l[E]et the phone keep ringing  [E7]
as she s[A]at there softly sin[E]ging
the nur[B]sery rhymes she'd memorize
in her da[A]ddy's easy ch[E]air.

Her husband is off to work  [E7]
and the k[A]ids are off to sc[E]hool
and there were oh so many ways
for h[B]er to spend a day.  [B7]

She could cl[E]ean the house for hours  [E7]
or [A]re-arrange the flo[E]wers
or m[B]ake it through the shady stream
screaming all the w[E]ay.

At the a[A]ge of thirty-seven
she rea[E]lized she'd never ride
through Paris in a sports car
with the worm wind in her h[B]air.

So she l[E]et the phone keep ringing  [E7]
as she s[A]at there softly sin[E]ging
the nur[B]sery rhymes she'd memorize
in her da[A]ddy's easy ch[E]air.

The evening sun touched gently on [E7]
the e[A]yes of Lucy Jo[E]rdan
on the roof top where she climbed
when all the laughter grew too l[B]oud.  [B7]

And she bo[E]wed and cursed to the man (?[E7])
who rea[A]ched out ... off to h[E]er his hands (?)
and l[B]ed her down to a long white car (?)
that waited, past the cr[E]owd. [E7]

At the a[A]ge of thirty-seven
she k[E]new that she'd found heaven
as she rode along through Paris
with the worm wind in her h[B]air.
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 The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan
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swallace4922 (report)

he morning sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
In a white suburban bedroom in a white suburban town
As she lay there 'neath the covers dreaming of a thousand lovers
Till the world turned to orange and the room went spinning round.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair.
So she let the phone keep ringing and she sat there softly singing
Little nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.

Her husband, he's off to work and the kids are off to school,
And there are, oh, so many ways for her to spend the day.
She could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
Or run naked through the shady street screaming all the way.

At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised in her daddy's easy chair.

The evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordan
On the roof top where she climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
And she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand,
And he led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd.

At the age of thirty-seven she knew she'd found forever
As she rode along through Paris with the warm wind in her hair ...