(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 

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...