I met her down in New Orleans 
she was hanging out a bit 
having a drink or two 
she bought a round, she sat on down 
and lit a cigarette and said: 
“boy have you got a night ahead of you” 
well maybe I was taken 
by the fancy way she walks 
maybe it was the perfume in her hair 
or maybe I just fell for her and the 
southern way she talks: 
talk like she didn’t have no cares 
she said: “call me Georgia, call me a bad, bad girl” 
“call me anything in the whole wide world” 
“but don’t you call me ‘baby’, cause I ain’t your girl” 
“just call me Georgia and honey I’ll rock yer world” 
she had a tattooed rose, she ain’t afraid to show 
yeah she drinks, she spits, she curses 
drives the wrong way down the one way streets 
she keeps a whiskey bottle by her bed 
and a pistol in her purse, and she 
can drive a strong man down to his beggin knees 
she said: “call me Georgia, call me a bad, bad girl” 
“call me anything in the whole wide world” 
“but don’t you call me ‘baby’, cause I ain’t your girl” 
“just call me Georgia and honey I’ll rock yer world” 
I see her around sometimes, she’s 
a hanging out a bit 
having a drink or two (or three, or four) 
she starts that walkin’ that smooth southern drawl 
and she hooks herself a more recent kind of fool