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In the corner of the bar there stands a jukebox With the best of country music, old and new You can hear your five selections for a quarter And somebody else's songs when yours are through I got good Kentucky whiskey on the counter And my friends around to help me ease the pain 'Til some button-pushing cowboy plays that love song And here I am just missing you again Please, Mr., please, don't play B-17 It was our song, it was his song, but it's over Please, Mr., please, if you know what I mean I don't ever wanna hear that song again If I had a dime for every time I held you Though you're far away, you've been so close to me I could swear I'd be the richest girl in Nashville Maybe even in the state of Tennessee But I guess I'd better get myself together 'Cause when you left, you didn't leave too much behind Just a note that said "I'm sorry" by your picture And a song that's weighing heavy on my mind Please, Mr., please, don't play B-17 It was our song, it was his song, but it's over Please, Mr., please, if you know what I mean I don't ever wanna hear that song again Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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