i met a little lady from way down south
and i thought she was kinda sweet.
she had a tasty tongue in a cowgirl mouth
that said things you’d wanna repeat.
“i don’t never go for that city stuff –
i like my drinks and men smooth and hard.”
and i said, “won’t you leave me when you’ve had enough?”
and she said, handing back my credit card,
“i don’t want none of your money, sweet,
i don’t care for no one but you.
i don’t know nothin’ ’bout how to cheat –
that ain’t nothin’ i’d wanna do.”
we had a little drink and we had a little dance
and we painted lots of red on the town,
and pretty soon we had ourselves a fine romance
and i took her out shopping for a gown.
oh, i bought her a ring, and i bought her a home,
and i got her set up nice and neat.
but sometimes i’d worry she would use me and roam,
and whenever i did, she’d repeat,
“i don’t want none of your money, sweet,
i don’t care for no one but you.
i don’t know nothin’ ’bout how to cheat –
that ain’t nothin’ i’d wanna do.”
so now why am i sittin’ with my head hangin’ low
with nothin’ left, not even pride,
wonderin’ where my sweetheart and my money did go
and how i got took for a ride?
my gal was a master of verbal predation,
a lawyer who took her reward –
she tripped up my ears with double negation
that i thought was negative concord:
“i don’t want none of your money, sweet,
i don’t care for no one but you.
i don’t know nothin’ ’bout how to cheat –
that ain’t nothin’ i’d wanna do.”