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