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Widespread Panic |
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Miscellaneous |
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Henry Parsons Died |
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Brian Whitman |
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John B. Carroll |
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The Original Lyrics File |
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It was six o'clock 'bout Saturday |
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When Henry Parsons died |
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All his good neighbors say |
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That man was never truly satisfied |
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Preacher man, he wouldn't say no prayer |
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Church bells didn't ring |
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But all the people stood up and stared |
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When a choir girl jumped up and started to sing |
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Chorus: |
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Was baptised in every creek in Georgia |
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Devil still called his name |
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Every time he shot up, drinkin' holy wine |
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He spill it down in shame |
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They held an auction on his front porch this morning |
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Sold off all his clothes |
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Sold off his four-poster bed |
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Debutantes great aunt in the front row |
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They burnt the house and spent the night |
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The smoke rose, thick and black |
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Now Henry Parsons got no place to stay |
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If he ever gets the nerve up to come back |
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Baptised in every creek in Georgia |
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Devil still calls his name |
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Every time he shot up, drinking holy wine |
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He spilled his down in shame |
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Everybody all over this town |
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Knew his reputation |
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All came to see him buried down in the ground |
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What you might call a little morbid fascination |
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What is everybody gonna say? |
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What is everybody gonna do? |
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Now Henry Parsons he passed away |
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Now I know where I plan to give John to (??) |
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Baptised in every creek in Georgia |
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Devil still calls his name |
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Every time he shot up, drinking holy wine |
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He spilled it down, down |
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Baptised in every creek in Georgia |
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Devil still calls his name (calls his name) |
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Every time he shot up, drinking holy wine |
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He spilled it down in shame, in shame |
