Lyrics:

(Prine)

She was a levelheaded dancer on the road to alcohol,

I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal.

Well, she pressed her chest against me about the time the jukebox broke.

She gave me a peck on the back of the neck, and these are the words she spoke.



Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.

Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.



I sat there at the table, and I acted real naive.

Cause I knew that topless lady, she had something up her sleeve.

She danced around the room awhile and she did the hoochy coo.

Yeah, singing a song all night long, telling me what to do.



Blow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, build you a home.

Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.



Well, I was young and hungry, and about to leave that place.

Just as I was going. she looked me in the face.

I said 'You must know the answer,' she said 'No, but I'll give it a try.'

To this day we've been living our way, here is the reason why.



We blew up your TV, threw away your paper, went to the country, build us a home.

Had a lot of children, fed 'em on peaches, they all found Jesus on their own.