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Martha
words and music by Matt Abell
©2004 All rights reserved
 

Martha, my bag-lady love
You’re the tramp that I think unwinkingly of
If you would be so inclined
To kiss a bum and become mistress to the soup line

Then we could vow on this day
And say, “We do, we do, we do!”
That means forever, baby
That means we’ll never be unglued

Martha, my bag-lady love
Say yes and take off your dirty glove

This ring don’t mean anything
Got it from a jeweler’s nickel gumball machine
Plastic ain’t swanky, I know
My love won’t be weighed in karats or care what I owe

But if we vow on this day
And say, “We do, we do, we do!”
That means forever, baby
That means we’ll never be unglued

This ring don’t mean anything
This ring don’t mean a thing

We’ll make this alleyway the aisle of the Poorman Tabernacle
And from the pews will pigeons sing off-key
And God will drop his “thy”s and “thou”s and speak in the vernacular:
“Is this the bum who’ll share your poverty eternally?”

Tin cans won’t clang from the car
But they’ll be ringing when I roll you in my shopping cart
We’ll have some kids, children galore
And live in a bulging cardboard box evermore

So if we vow on this day
And say, “We do, we do, we do!”
That means forever, baby
That means we’ll never be unglued

Tin cans won’t clang from the car
Cause we don’t need to go that far

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