She longed to be a lady, When she was just a child; But where the gra** was greener, Lord She done her growin' wild. Then she tried to spread her tender wings, And never left the ground; So she turned to dreams at sweet sixteen And woke up coming down. But she tries in her way climbing higher, And she dies each time she fails; So give her a home, or leave her alone; The lady's not for sale.
She ain't ashamed to show her soul, So she'll sell it for a song. But free don't mean she's easy Or right for going wrong. So let her be the lady, Lord, She wants so bad to be; And let her win the gentle man That she was born to please. 'Cause she tries in her way climbing higher, And she dies each time she fails; So give her a home, or leave her alone; The lady's not for sale.