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Shel Silverstein - The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan
Work rating: Low

The morning sun touched lightly on 
The eyes of Lucy Jordan 
In her 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 37 
She realized 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 
Little nursery rhymes she`d memorized 
In her daddy`s easy chair. 

Her husband is off to work, 
And the kids are off to school, 
And there were, 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 streets, 
Screaming all the way! 

At the age of 37 
She realized 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 
Little nursery rhymes she`d memorized 
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 37 
She knew she`d found forever, 
As she rolled along through Paris 
With the warm wind in her hair.
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