She stepped off the bus with a burst suitcase and a frown
And she could smell the breweries and abattoirs on the edge of town
And the man who owes her money won't even lend her an ear
When she phones to demand his answer's vague;
He says, "I'll get back to you but right now I've got to catch the plague."
Down in a bargain basement she goes to shuffle through careers
When all they offer her is friendship and peace souveniers
And the receptionist was playing with a pencil at her lip
She asked her if she knew a place to sleep
She says, "I'll get back to you but now I've got appointments to keep."
There was a shop called B.J.'s that she stepped into to get out of the gale
They sold only British manufactured, lifetime guaranteed to fail
And a store detective asked her what she had under her coat
"It's just a little something that I wrote;
It says, 'I'll get back to you unless first your girlfriend
slits your throat.'"
And by the time the sun set she was penniless and frozen to the core
The Salvation Army girls refused her on the grounds they didn't know her
So she asked them, well, for advice, but it turned out to be
A Sunday sport reporter who was following his nose
He said, "I'll get back to you but first we need a
picture without clothes."
So she stepped back on that bus with a burst suitcase and a frown
She had come to the conclusion that this was not the place for Maggie Brown
And it was 6 in the morning when she telephoned me
Until then I'd been living on my knees
But I got back up when she got back to me