Holy Modal Rounders

She's more to be pitied

She's there at the bar every evening
Her lips and her cheeks painted red
Her beauty has faded too early
Brought on by the fast life she's led

She's more to be pitied than scolded.
She wants to be loved, not despised.
Too much beer and wine, too many good times,
The lure of the honky-tonk wrecked her young life.

She once was the bell of the ballroom.
She'd have made some man a sweet wife,
But too many parties and the wrong kind of pals
Ruined her happy young life.

She's more to be pitied than scolded.
She wants to be loved, not despised.
Too much beer and wine, too many good times,
The lure of the honky-tonk wrecked her young life.