| Song | My Washington Woman |
| Artist | Kenny Rogers |
| Album | Calico Silver |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Frazier, Owens | |
| The wages of an unskilled working man never paid enough | |
| From time to time the nickel race keeps him from giving up | |
| The blue collared man in Seattle never lives on white collared street | |
| But there was food on the table for my Washington woman and me | |
| The work slowed down and then one day the foreman laid me off | |
| That night in a tavern down to my last dime I met a girl from Arkansas | |
| Her daddy was a banker in Little Rock, she had a mansion on white collared street | |
| The next morning my Washington woman woke up without me | |
| From city to city and state to state I grew heavier with shame | |
| My Washington woman had six months left before our child would bring her pain | |
| My Arkansas woman hurt me as we crossed the Arkansas line | |
| But the arms of Seattle were the arms that kept huggin' my mind | |
| For years I've basked in expensive wines, taste cheaper every day | |
| I gave up all the things I loved for all these things I hate | |
| And locked up all of her forgiveness the day I set myself free | |
| And the heart of my Washington woman stopped beating for me | |
| My Washington woman sends me a letter every once in a while | |
| Inside a folded wordless page is a picture of my child | |
| All at once the room grows cold with a feeling of jealousy | |
| And there's a silence between my Arkansas woman and me |
| zuo ci : Frazier, Owens | |
| The wages of an unskilled working man never paid enough | |
| From time to time the nickel race keeps him from giving up | |
| The blue collared man in Seattle never lives on white collared street | |
| But there was food on the table for my Washington woman and me | |
| The work slowed down and then one day the foreman laid me off | |
| That night in a tavern down to my last dime I met a girl from Arkansas | |
| Her daddy was a banker in Little Rock, she had a mansion on white collared street | |
| The next morning my Washington woman woke up without me | |
| From city to city and state to state I grew heavier with shame | |
| My Washington woman had six months left before our child would bring her pain | |
| My Arkansas woman hurt me as we crossed the Arkansas line | |
| But the arms of Seattle were the arms that kept huggin' my mind | |
| For years I' ve basked in expensive wines, taste cheaper every day | |
| I gave up all the things I loved for all these things I hate | |
| And locked up all of her forgiveness the day I set myself free | |
| And the heart of my Washington woman stopped beating for me | |
| My Washington woman sends me a letter every once in a while | |
| Inside a folded wordless page is a picture of my child | |
| All at once the room grows cold with a feeling of jealousy | |
| And there' s a silence between my Arkansas woman and me |
| zuò cí : Frazier, Owens | |
| The wages of an unskilled working man never paid enough | |
| From time to time the nickel race keeps him from giving up | |
| The blue collared man in Seattle never lives on white collared street | |
| But there was food on the table for my Washington woman and me | |
| The work slowed down and then one day the foreman laid me off | |
| That night in a tavern down to my last dime I met a girl from Arkansas | |
| Her daddy was a banker in Little Rock, she had a mansion on white collared street | |
| The next morning my Washington woman woke up without me | |
| From city to city and state to state I grew heavier with shame | |
| My Washington woman had six months left before our child would bring her pain | |
| My Arkansas woman hurt me as we crossed the Arkansas line | |
| But the arms of Seattle were the arms that kept huggin' my mind | |
| For years I' ve basked in expensive wines, taste cheaper every day | |
| I gave up all the things I loved for all these things I hate | |
| And locked up all of her forgiveness the day I set myself free | |
| And the heart of my Washington woman stopped beating for me | |
| My Washington woman sends me a letter every once in a while | |
| Inside a folded wordless page is a picture of my child | |
| All at once the room grows cold with a feeling of jealousy | |
| And there' s a silence between my Arkansas woman and me |