My father told me,
lying on his bed of death
«Boy,» he says, «woman she's gonna make it,
don't fool your self
'Cause she's got something
to make a man lay that money,
uh, right in her hand
And the very thing
that makes her rich
will make you poor
The very thing
that makes her rich
will make you poor»
That's right!
Well, I put you behind the wheel
of a deuce and a quarter,
yes I did
Had you living like a rich man's daughter,
yes I did, I sure did
While you were living high on the hog
You had me down here scuffling like a dog
Well, the very thing
that makes you rich
makes me poor
The very thing
that makes you rich
makes me poor
Don't you never ever make
such a bad mistake
You know I'd rather climb into bed
with a rattlesnake
Then to work hard every day
bringing that woman all my pay
The very thing
that makes you rich
makes me poor
Makes me so damn poor
The thing that makes her rich
makes me poor
The very thing
that makes you rich
make me poor
Very thing
that makes you rich
makes me poor
Makes me so damned poor
Money won't change it, no no…