Mrs. Jones, Mr s. Jones
Her real first name was Betty
But I'd rather just forget it
So I'll call her the first Mrs. Jones
We were married in September
And it lasted till November,
when one day she just took off on her own.
I followed her to Savannah,
then Mobile,
and then Atlanta.
Every day I begged her,
please come home.
Pretty soon I started drinkin'
Tryin' hard to keep from thinkin'
Just how much I loved the first Mrs. Jones
It was cold and dark one mornin'
Just before the day was dawnin'
When I staggered from a
tavern to a phone
When she picked up her receiver
I said you're gonna come back
or either they're gonna be calling you
the late Mrs. Jones.
I put a pistol in my jacket
stumbled out and hailed a
taxi told the taxi driver
to take me to her home.
I remember walking proudly
and everybody said that I yelled out loudly come
on out I'm gonna come in, Mrs. Jones.
The next thing I recalled
was walking through the forest,
looking for a place to hide her bones.
I dug and dug for hours,
and then I planted flowers right on top
of the first Mrs. Jones.
Did my little story scare you?
I can see, cause I'm so near you.
Little beads of perspiration
dot your clothes.
Aren't you sorry now that you left me?
Really now, don't you want
to come go with me?
After all, you are the second Mrs. Jones.