Henry Parsons Died

It was six o' clock on Saturday

Henry Parsons died.

All of his good neighbors say

That man was never truly satisfied.

Preacherman never said no prayers

Church bells didn't ring

Everybody stood up and stared when some

Choirgirls jumped up and started to sing

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.

Devil still called his name.

Every time he shot up drinking holy wine

He'd spill it all down his shirt in shame.

Had an auction on his from porch this morning

Sold off all his clothes

Sold off his four-poster bed

There were debutantes and old ladies breaking out in fights in the front row

Burned his house and spent the night

Smoke rose thick and black

Now Henry Parsons' got no place to stay

If he ever gets the nerve up to come back

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.

Devil still called his name.

Every time he shot up drinking holy wine

He'd spill it all down his shirt in shame.

Everybody knows his name

They've heard about his reputation

They all came to see him buried down in the ground

What you might call a little bit of morbid fascination

What is everybody gonna say?

What is everybody gonna do?

Now that Henry Parsons' passed away

We got no one to lay our guilt on to

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.

Devil still called his name.

Every time he shot up drinking holy wine

He'd spill it all down...

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.

Devil still called his name.

Every time he shot up drinking holy wine

He'd spill it all down his shirt in shame.