Gut Rumbles

April 03, 2004

high-heeled shoes

My baby say she loves me
But she don't treat me right
She goes to church on Sunday,
But she stays out Friday night
She don't come home at all...
And it's tearing me apart
She's a long-legged woman
Wearing high-heeled shoes across my heart

That's the first verse of a teriffic blues song written by one of the great undiscovered songwriting talents in America today. Modesty forbids that I mention his name, but I WILL say that I'm probably the only person on the planet who knows all the words. I like the chorus, too:

Baby, if you'd let me
I'd treat you like a queen
Why do you do your lovin' daddy so mean?
All I get are promises
That you never keep
And you're strapping on them high-heeled shoes
With my heart lying at your feet

I haven't played that song in a long time, but I howled it out tonight in the key of "E." My ex-wife wore high-heeled shoes to court for our divorce hearing. I know that Jennifer cannot wear high-heeled shoes. She wears a size 7 shoe, but most of her foot is made up of long toes, and she has incredibly narrow heels. High-heeled shoes give her blisters after 30 minutes.

But she wore 3" heels to court that day.

She's a long-legged woman wearing high-heeled shoes across my heart.