I saw the sharp dressed lady,
She called a taxi cab,
She was going to the Sunday church,
And my o my! Did she look fab!
Oh my sharp dressed lady,
Could you not stop for a while?
Turn around and look at me,
And give me your flashing smile?
She was my sharp dressed lady,
She was my wicked dream,
She was my prettiest lass,
My painting’s theme.
She was the wild wild one,
Born of the open space,
A daughter of nature,
And o that angelic face!
She turned and looked at me,
With a grin that made me heady,
I can’t stop thinking about her,
She is my, she is my Sharp-Dressed Lady.
