Miss Jones knows, what the dogs like

And the dogs know, what they like about her

In the fields of grass where the young boys run

Away from, away from, away from

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know?

Father John is worried

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know?

Flames of war are b-b-burning

The hills wish they were mountains

And the weeds, to be trees

In the years to come, when we all run

Away from, away from, away from

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know?

Father John is worried

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there, will you let us know?

Flames of war are b-b-burning

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know?

Father John is worried

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know?

Flames of war are b-b-burning

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know?

Father John is worried

Hey, hey Mrs Jones, when you get down there will you let us know?

Flames of war are b-b-burning