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She don't like her eggs all runny

She thinks crossin' her legs is funny

She looks down her nose at money

She gets it on like the Easter Bunny

She's my baby, I'm her honey

I'm never gonna let her go

He ain't got laid in a month of Sundays

I caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies

He ain't too sharp but he gets things done

Drinks his beer like it's oxygen

—John Prine, "In Spite of Ourselves”

After we were pronounced man and wife, we played, “She’s No Lady.”

She hates my mama

She hates my daddy too

She loves to tell me

She hates the things I do

She loves to lie beside me

Almost every night

She's no lady she's my wife

The preacher asked her

And she said I do

The preacher asked me

And she said yes he does too

And the preacher said

I pronounce you 99 to life

Son she's no lady she's your wife

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nostr:npub1xpcqmx422lf6cm6nzup53vfsfvyz7pjfarwdklj3apxaggjtdqmqg03t05 I love that song and that whole album. I’m man enough to admit it that I can still cry a beer scented tear if I hear "If I Had a Boat.”