Miss Jones

Miss Jones is not my kind of girl
She’s so rich while I’m so poor
She calls me up to wash her clothes
But that’s not what she wants me for
She lets me drive her car all night
But I must keep it out of sight
Cause if her daddy catches me
He’ll beat me up and crush my knees
When it’s the hottest time of day
And all the men are cutting hay
I’m in the big house, clean and cool
Breaking all the bossman’s rules
Now all the boys give me the eye
They joke about some cherry-pie
But it ain’t easy to be on call
And have to bounce like a rubber ball
I’ll take the poor girl who eats beans
The kind who wears them old blue jeans
She’ll treat me like I was a king
And not like a monkey on a string