Standing on the corner, suitcase in my hand
Jack is in his corset, Jane is in her vest
And me, I'm in a rock'n'roll band
Ridin'a Stutz Bearcat, Jim
You know, those were different times
Oh, all the poets, they studied rules of verse
And those ladies, they rolled their eyes
Sweet Jane, sweet Jane, sweet Jane
Jack, he is a banker
And Jane, she is a clerk
And both of them save their monies
When they come home from work
Ooh, they be sittin' down by the fire
Oh, the radio does play
The classical music, said Jim, the 'March of the Wooden Soldiers'
All you protest kids
You can hear Jack say, yeah
Sweet Jane, sweet Jane, sweet Jane
Standing on the corner, suitcase in my hand
I wanna play with your band
Sweet Jane, sweet Jane, sweet Jane...
