Good Lord, good Lord, send me an angel down 
Can't spare no angel, we'll send you a 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 crowd on the corner, wonder what could it be 
Wasn't a thing, but the womens is 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 the mayor of Detroit to pick which one I like 
One of 'em Hamtramck 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, mile an' a half from the ground 
She's a tailor-made mama, and 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 
'Cause their husband'll grab ya, beat you ragged as 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 one in my bosom, she lives in Tenessee 
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