Cecil Barfield - Lucy Mae Blues lyrics

That Sunday woman, she bring me the news That Monday woman, boys, I'm telling you, Better not let my good gal catch you here Ain't no telling, man, what poor little Lucy Mae do That Tuesday woman, she took my pocket change That Wednesday woman, she wanna do the same Better not let my good gal catch you here Ain't no telling, man, what poor little Lucy Mae do That Thursday woman, she knocked in my door That Friday woman, boys, they gotta go Better not let my good gal catch you here Ain't no telling, man, what poor little Lucy Mae do That Saturday woman she, took a gatling gun, Cut you if you stand, she will shoot you if you run. Better not let my good gal catch you here Ain't no telling, man, what poor little Lucy Mae do She left one --------- came back that afternoon Next time I saw her boys, was the 19th of June Better not let my good gal catch you here Ain't no telling, man, what poor little Lucy Mae do Bye bye little woman now, if you call that gone Better leave your things, baby, thinking all day long Better not let my good gal catch you here Ain't no telling, man, what poor little Lucy Mae do