Miss Jones

Miss Jones knows, what the dogs like And the dogs know, what they like about her In the fields of gra*s where the young boys run Away from, away from, away from Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know? Father John is worried Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know? Flames of war are b-b-burning The hills wish they were mountains And the weeds, to be trees In the years to come, when we all run Away from, away from, away from Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know? Father John is worried Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there, will you let us know? Flames of war are b-b-burning Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know? Father John is worried Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know? Flames of war are b-b-burning Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know? Father John is worried Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know? Flames of war are b-b-burning