Matrimonial Intentions - Jack White

You people can talk about your cold-shell roadie mamas

Mama, your chin up about your house being brown

Well I got a woman way down in Mobile, Alabama

She’s the warmest thing in that town, doggone her skin

She ain’t got no Papa

Leave me alone

She ain’t got no big boy

Please take me home

This mama just got one object in view

And what she said to me, I know she’s bound to say to you

She’ll say, «Papa if you ain’t got matrimonial inclinations

Then keep your hands to yourself»

«Daddy, if you ain’t got no bungalow-made reservations

Son, don’t let your hands be felt»

Well, I’m this red hot Papa you heard so much talk about

But this is an asbestos woman who mortally put your fire out

Papa, you ain’t got no matrimonial inclinations

Please keep your hands to yourself

When I first met you, I had no shoes

But look at me now, I got these barefooted blues

Papa, you ain’t got no matrimonial intentions

Keep your hands to yourself

Papa, if you ain’t got matrimonial inclinations

Please keep your hands to yourself

Daddy, if you ain’t got no bungalow-made reservations

Son, don’t let your hands be felt

Well I’m this red hot Papa you heard so much talk about

But you’re an asbestos woman who mortally put my fire out

Papa, you ain’t got no matrimonial intentions

Oh Death, where is thy sting?