Way down in southern West Virginia lived a girl they called Imogene
Her old man died and left her his money he was a coal field king
Now Imogene told me if you'll be my husband I'll dress you in patent leather shoes
Well hello good times so long rambling goodbye down and out blues
Now mama she told me don't marry for money she may act just like a queen
She may be rich but there's always a hitch she can talk sweet and still be mean
Now buddy I know don't you marry for dough I remember when I didn't have any
I'm telling you son if you marry for mon you're gonna earn every penny
Oh son
Now Imogene she never took her hair down she just loafed around all day dressed in her slip
I couldn't drink beer or smoke my cigars she was so good at cracking that whip
Now old Imogene half Indian and half bulldog and I'm just a coyote howlin'
Cause she's either on the warpath or sittin' round the house stretched on her tail end a growlin'
Now breakfast in bed ain't so bad for your head if you're layin' there enjoyin' the snack
But it ain't so much fun if you're the one carryin' while she's propped up in the sack
Now buddy I know don't you marry for dough you'd be better off with holes in your shoes
Well I'm gonna run bein' rich ain't no fun hey judge won't you gimme back
Judge won't you gimme hey hey judge won't you gimme back my blues
Well I'm gonna run bein' rich ain't no fun hey judge won't you gimme back my blues