Tryin’ Stuff On

I dug out your photograph from our old dresser drawer
I set it on the table and I talked to it till four
Then I saw your nightie on the table by the phone
So I been sittin’ a-lone, tryin’ stuff on.

Then I looked through your jewelry, for your clip on hoop ear rings
Your lipstick and your make-up, your accessories and things
Then I plundered throught your closet, till I found an extra long
And I’ve been sittin’ at home tryin’ stuff on.

CHORUS

Trying stuff on, I’m tryin’ stuff on
Your six-inch heels and your Faberge co-logne
Yes, you left me with your mem’ries and the wardrobe that you owned
Now I’ve been sittin’ at home tryin’ stuff on.

I put on your sequined ball gown and I checked the mirror there
Why, I look like Cindy Crawford, but with much more body hair
And then I thought, I’m much too cute, to sit here all alone
So I’m at happy hour with your stuff on.

A trucker made a pass at me, so I hit him with your purse
And the police stepped between us, before it could get worse
And then the nice policeman said, can I take you home
He didn’t know it was me, with your stuff on.

(CHORUS #2)

With your stuff on, I got your stuff on
Your fish-net hose and your dress of pink chiffon
Oh, you left me with your mem’ries and the wardrobe that you owned
But I don’t pay for drinks with your stuff on.

D I dug out your photograph from our old dresser drawer I set it on the table and I talked to it till four Then I saw your nightie on the G table by the phone D So I been sittin’ a-{A} lone, tryin’ stuff D on. Then I looked through your jewelry, for your clip on hoop ear rings Your lipstick and your make-up, your accessories and things Then I plundered throught your closet, till I found an extra long And I’ve been sittin’ at home tryin’ stuff on. CHORUS D Trying stuff on, I’m tryin’ stuff on Your six-inch heels and your Faberge co-{A} logne Yes, you D left me with your mem’ries and the G wardrobe that you owned D Now I’ve been sittin’ at A home tryin’ stuff D on. I put on your sequined ball gown and I checked the mirror there Why, I look like Cindy Crawford, but with much more body hair And then I thought, I’m much too cute, to sit here all alone So I’m at happy hour with your stuff on. A trucker made a pass at me, so I hit him with your purse And the police stepped between us, before it could get worse And then the nice policeman said, can I take you home He didn’t know it was me, with your stuff on. (CHORUS #2) With your stuff on, I got your stuff on Your fish-net hose and your dress of pink chiffon Oh, you left me with your mem’ries and the wardrobe that you owned But I don’t pay for drinks with your stuff on.