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 bluesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
