Lyrics

For all the houses that you’ve cleaned
and all the patients that you’ve screened,
you’ve got memories inseamed in
a little white cottage, in the woods.

Turning kids on to Little Feat and
sunset spots and Colorado peaks,
picture books, advice on life and men,
and hand picked black berry jam.

(Chorus)
When your body won’t let you work no more
and the bills pile up all over the floor,
who do you think is gonna take care of you?
The service industries don’t leave much pension
for retirees. Oh my fairy-hippie godmothers,
what shall you do?

Oh so chaotic Thanksgiving dinners
and saving stray dogs from eternal kennels,
throw another log on the fire, every other minute,
and somebody, flip the record.

(Chorus)

You clothe me and you feed me and you play with my hair,
you never had children and it’s just not fair,
no you ain’t gonna make it out to Brandon Wilde,
but you’ll be hanging in the country, Edgefield style.

(Chorus)

And when I’m rich and famous, I’ll buy ya’ll a piece of land,