A E D Good Lord, good Lord, send me an angel down A E G A Can't spare no angel, we'll send you teasin' brown Well that new way of loving, swear to god it must be best For these Detroit women won't let Mr. Jack White rest There was a cry on the corner, wonder what could it be Must be some women, tryin' to get to me I Went down to the station, suitcase in my hand All the women run cryin', "Mr. Jack, won't you be my man?" Well there was three women, yellow, brown and black Take a man from Detroit to pick which one I like One of 'em Hampshire yellow, one of 'em Detroit brown But the southwest darkskin sure to turn my damper down Well ticket agent, ticket agent where did my baby go? Tell me what she looked like I'll tell you what road she's on Well she's a long tall Mama, mounahair from the ground She's a tailor made Mama she ain't no hand me down Well I used to say married women, sweetest women ever born You better change that thing you better leave married women alone Take my advice let married women, boy let 'em be Cos their husband'll grab ya, beat your ragged ass with a cedar tree I got two women, you can't tell 'em apart I got one in my bosom and the other one is in my heart Well that woman in my bosom, she live in Tennesee But that one in my heart well she don't give a darn for me I'm gonna tell you pretty Mama, exactly who I am When I walk in that front door and hear that back door slam | TransposeReset Font sizeReset Chords fingeringsA D E G |