G                  C
Oh, where I come from, there ain?t nobody
G                 C
Nobody quite like you
    G                        C
Who blessed my soul is cold on Sunday, and
G                 C
Always evades the truth
      G                C
Whose lingo comes from God knows where, and he
G                      C
Surely knows more than I
    G              C
Who also knows how mocked I am
         G                    C
When you call me your kuschty rye


(Chorus)
          G        C
And I say hey, hey honey
          G                    C
I hold you way up too high for me
G                 C
Whoa, now come on baby
         G                    C
I put you way up too high for me

               G                  C
She learned me life is sweet, and God is good
       G              C
And he always will provide
    G               C
She taught me all I ever knew, and she
G                C
Taught me more besides