Lyrics:

My Sunday woman brings the daily news, that Monday woman brings me stockin' and shoes
Better not let my good gal catch you here
Ain't no tellin' what poor little Lucy Mae do

My Tuesday woman totes that pocket change, that Wednesday woman wants to do the same
Better not let my good gal catch you here
Ain't no tellin' what poor little Lucy Mae do

My Thursday woman knocks upon my door, that Friday woman, boy, is gotta go
Better not let my good gal catch you here
Ain't no tellin' what poor little Lucy Mae do

My Saturday woman totes a Gatling gun, cut you if you stand, shoot you if you run
Better not let my good gal catch you here
Ain't no tellin' what poor little Lucy Mae do

She left one Christmas come back that afternoon, next time I see her, boy, it was the nineteen of June
Better not let my good gal catch you here
Ain't no tellin' what poor little Lucy Mae do

Goodbye, little woman, babe, you call that gone, you may leave Frankie, baby, don't think you won't stay long
Better not let my good gal catch you here
Ain't no tellin' what poor little Lucy Mae do