Ballad of Lucy Jordon

shel silverstein

the mornin' sun touched lightly on the eyes of Lucy Jordon
in her white suburban bedroom in her 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 spinnin' round

at the age of thirty-seven 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 ringin' as she sat there softly singin'
pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chair

her husband he was off to work and the kids were off to school
and there were oh so many ways for her to spend her day
she could clean the house for hours or rearrange the flowers
or run naked down the shady street screaming all the way

at the age of thirty-seven 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 ringin' as she sat there softly singin'
pretty nursery rhymes she'd memorized in her daddy's easy chair

the evening sun touched gently on the eyes of Lucy Jordon
on the rooftop where she'd climbed when all the laughter grew too loud
and she bowed and curtsied to the man who reached and offered her his hand
and led her down to the long white car that waited past the crowd

at the age of thirty-seven she'd finally found forever heaven
riding through Paris
with the warm wind in her hair