My Soul, My Soul — Richard Thompson

My Soul My Soul My Soul

She's never going to shake it up She'll never be satisfied

She's never going to eye me right The way I want to be eyed

The way she crimps her curls The way she calls that hog The way she sips her tea The way she smokes that log The way she bangs the wall The way she walks the dog

I showed her my invitation If she didn't go and scratch me off

She gave me my party favours But nothing was sweet enough

Didn't I flip you A thousand times or more Didn't I flip you A thousand times or more Didn't I flip you A thousand times or more

My Soul My Soul My Soul