I saGw a Berkeley woman sitCtin' in her rockin chaGir
AG dulcimer in her lap a feaD7ther in her hair
Her breGasts swayed freely
With the rhyCthm of the rockin' chairG
She was a sitCtin' and a singin' and a swGayin
Her cheD7eks were red I declGare
TGwas hard to believe whCat my eyes showed me thGen
TGhe color in her cheeks was D7just her natural skin
She worGe no makeup
To maCke her look that wGay
She was a natCural mama with the red cheeGks
What moD7re can I saGy
WGell I fin'ly realized thCere was hunger in my stGare
IGn my mind I was swayin' witD7h the woman in the rockin' chair
But the laGdy I was livin' with
Was stCandin' right by my siGde
She saw myC stare and she saw the hunGger
And LoD7rd it made her crGy
Except a woGman is the sweetest fruit
That GoCd ever put on the viGne
I'd no moCre love just onGe kind of woman
Than driD7nk only one kind of wiGne
Well a womGan is the sweetest fruit
That GoCd ever put on the viGne
I'd no moCre love just onGe kind of woman
Than driD7nk only one kind of wiGne