Mr. Tom Jones, in da house!
And at the Ryman. Dude looking sharp in his velvet, paisley jacket.
Way back in the TJ heyday, I babysat my niece and nephew while my brother and SIL, Mary Jane, went off to see Tom Jones. Several times. He still has the voice and the looks; and he can still bust a sexy hip gyration. Just sayin'.
Another great Nashville date night.
Pussycat, pussycat, I love you. Yes I do.
Labels: MJ, Music, Nashville