Good Lord, good Lord, send me an angel down
Can't spare no angel will spare you a teasin' brow
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's a crowd on the corner, wonder what could it be?
One thing but the women just trying 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 the mayor of Detroit to pick which one I like
One of 'em hamtramak yellow
One of 'em Detroit brown
But the Southwest darkskin sure to turn my damper down
Why ticket agent, ticket agent, where did my baby go?
Tell me what she looks like, I'll tell you what road she's on
Well, she's a long, tall mama, a mile and a half from the ground
She's a tailor man mama, and she ain't no hand-me-down
Why I use to say married women, sweetest women ever born
You better change that theory, better leave married women alone
Take my advice, let married women, boy, let 'em be
'Cause their husband will grab you, beat your ragged ass to 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 one in my bosom, she live in Tennessee
But that one in my heart, well, she don't give a darn for me
I'ma tell you, pretty mama, exactly who I am
When I walk in that front door and hear that back door slam
READ MORE ABOUT THE WHITE STRIPES
