(S. Bailey) 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...