(S. Bailey)
(C#m) - (G#m7) - (G#7) - (F#7) - (E) - (B)
My father (C#m) told me, lying (G#m7) on his bed of (C#m) death,
";Boy,"; he says, ";woman she's gonna make it, don't fool your (G#7) self
'Cause she's got (C#m) something to make a man (F#7) lay that money, uh, right in her hand
And the very (E) thing that makes her (B) rich will make you (C#m) poor (F#7)
The very thing that makes her (G#7) rich will make you (C#m) 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
