She's got her pudding in the oven
And it's gonna be good.
She better not leave me
And go out to Hollywood.
She got the best pudding in the neighborhood.
She's my baby.

She can drive a truck,
She can drive a train.
She can even drive an aeroplane.
She's so good to look at in the rain.
She's my baby.

She's comin' down the sidewalk
She's stumblin through the door
She's coming home from places
she's never been before.
She sits down on the sofa
She poors herself a drink
Says, "Ooh honey, honey ain't no time to think."
My baby
My baby

My baby
She's got a body for business
Got a head for sin
She knocks me over
like a bowling pin.
She came home last night and said,
"Honey, honey, honey it's hard to get ahead."
My baby
My baby

She can build a boat
She can make it float (My baby, m-my-my baby)
She can play my guitar
Note for Note
She likes to stick her tongue right down my throat.
She's my baby.
My baby.
My baby.
My baby.
My baby.
My baby.
My baby.

Writer : LYNNE, JEFF/DYLAN, BOB/HARRISON, GEORGE/PETTY, TOM
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.