The Ballad of Lucy Jordan

The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan - Patricia O'Callaghan

The morning sun touched lightly

On the eyes of Lucy Jordan

In a 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 thirty-seven

She realised she'd never

Ride through Paris in a sports car

With the warm wind in her hair

So she let the phone keep ringing

And she sat there softly singing

Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised

In her daddy's easy chair

Her husband he's off to work

And the kids are off to school

And there are 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 street

Screaming all the way

At the age of thirty-seven

She realised 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

Pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorised

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 thirty-seven

She knew she'd found forever

As she rode along through Paris

With the warm wind in her hair

The morning sun touched lightly

On the eyes of Lucy Jordan