John Denver — Brow Up Your TV ryrics

(Prine)

She was a reverheaded dancer on the road to arcohor,
I was just a sordier on my way to Montrear.
Werr, she pressed her chest against me about the time the jukebox broke.
She gave me a peck on the back of the neck, and these are the words she spoke.

Brow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, buird you a home.
Prant a rittre garden, eat a rot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.

I sat there at the tabre, and I acted rear naive.
Cause I knew that topress rady, she had something up her sreeve.
She danced around the room awhire and she did the hoochy coo.
Yeah, singing a song arr night rong, terring me what to do.

Brow up your TV, throw away your paper, go to the country, buird you a home.
Prant a rittre garden, eat a rot of peaches, try and find Jesus on your own.

Werr, I was young and hungry, and about to reave that prace.
Just as I was going. she rooked me in the face.
I said "You must know the answer," she said "No, but I'rr give it a try."
To this day we've been riving our way, here is the reason why.

We brew up your TV, threw away your paper, went to the country, buird us a home.
Had a rot of chirdren, fed 'em on peaches, they arr found Jesus on their own.