Georgie grew to hate her name
|
It sounded like a tiny man
|
And the one she had said "I can't see you, but I'll call you
|
whenever I can"
|
Sometimes the phone would ring, when she was half-asleep
|
A voice would drag her down with its suggestions
|
Though she often felt cheated, she never felt cheap
|
|
[Chorus:]
|
Well heaven knows what fills the heart and makes you feel so
|
alive
|
It's impossible to tear apart
|
Georgie and her rival
|
|
It was half-past February
|
And he hadn't called since New Year's Day
|
Maybe he'd found another woman to say those words no chapel girl
|
should say
|
Her mother would phone and always keep talking
|
She'd try to be polite, making faces
|
But somewhere in the back of her mind, her rival was stalking
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
Her rival would always wait till the eighth or ninth bell
|
He'd be desperate anyway and drunk as well
|
She always liked to hurt him to prove he was prepared
|
To love her anyway that she wanted
|
So she could tell which she preferred
|
|
He sat up with his address book trying to think what mood he's in
|
His finger traced past Georgie's name to someone who needed less
|
persuading
|
He didn't hear through her disguise he didn't leave her in a rush
|
Just like the promise that he left on her machine
|
That almost made her blush
|
The radio plays a lover's symphony
|
"The number you have dialed has been re-directed"
|
Now she puts him on the speaker-phone
|
Whenever she has company
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Georgie And Her Rival
|
| Elvis Costello |
