She’s Gotta Be a Saint Bobby Vinton

I'm out late every night
Doin' things that ain't right
And she'll cry for me
When I'm down in the dumps
And she nurses my lumps
How she cries for me

And she'll never complain
She keeps hiding the pain
But I know all the while
She's not feeling too well
'Cause I put her through hell
Still she forces a smile

She's got to be a saint
Lord knows that I ain't
I finally realize right before my eyes
Here is a saint

There's a dress in the shop
That'll make her eyes pop
But she'll look away
She'd have gotten a lift
If I'd bought her that gift
For her birthday