Text: Jackie Greene. Georgia.

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