Her real first name was Betty,
but I'd rather just forget it
So I'll call her the first Mrs. Jones
We were married in September,
and it lasted till November
And one day she just took out on her own
I followed her to Savannah
New Orleans and then Atlanta
Every day I begged her to come home
Pretty soon I started drinking,
trying hard to keep from thinking
Just how much I loved the
It was cold and dark one morning,
just before the day was done
When I staggered from a tavern
And she picked up her receiver, I said
You're gonna come back or
Either they're gonna be calling you
I put a pistol in my jacket
Stumbled out and hailed a taxi
I remember walking proudly
Everybody said I yelled out loudly
Come on out or I'm gonna come in,
was walking to the forest
Looking for a place to hide her bones
I dug and I dug for hours
Right on top of the first, Mrs. Jones
I'm haunting my little stories again
All I can see is I'm so near you
Little beads of perspiration
Aren't you sorry now that you left me?
Really now, don't you want
After all, you are the second Mrs. Jones