Way down in southern West Virginia
Lived a girl they called Imogene
Her old man died
And left her his money
He was a coal field king
Now Imogene told me
If you'll be my husband
I'll dress you in patent leather shoes
Well hello good times
So long rambling
Goodbye down and out blues
Now mama she told me
Don't marry for money
She may act just like a queen
She may be rich
But there's always a hitch
She can talk sweet
And still be mean
Now buddy I know
Don't you marry for dough
I remember when I didn't have any
I'm telling you son
If you marry for mon
You're gonna earn every penny
Oh son
Now Imogene
She never took her hair down
She just loafed around
All day dressed in her slip
I couldn't drink beer
Or smoke my cigars
She was so good at cracking that whip
Now old Imogene half Indian
And half bulldog
And I'm just a coyote howlin'
Cause she's either on the warpath
Or sittin' round the house
Stretched on her tail end a growlin'
Now breakfast in bed
Ain't so bad for your head
If you're layin' there
Enjoyin' the snack
But it ain't so much fun
If you're the one carryin'
While she's propped up in the sack
Now buddy I know
Don't you marry for dough
You'd be better off
With holes in your shoes
Well I'm gonna run
Bein' rich ain't no fun
Hey judge won't you gimme back
Judge won't you gimme hey hey
Judge won't you gimme back
My blues
Well I'm gonna run
Bein' rich ain't no fun
Hey judge won't you gimme back
My blues