Henry Parson Died Widespread Panic

Brian Whitman
John B. Carroll
The Original Lyrics File

It was six o'clock 'bout Saturday
When Henry Parsons died
All his good neighbors say
That man was never truly satisfied
Preacher man, he wouldn't say no prayer
Church bells didn't ring
But all the people stood up and stared
When a choir girl jumped up and started to sing

Chorus:
Was baptised in every creek in Georgia
Devil still called his name
Every time he shot up, drinkin' holy wine
He spill it down in shame

They held an auction on his front porch this morning
Sold off all his clothes
Sold off his four-poster bed
Debutantes great aunt in the front row
They burnt the house and spent the night
The smoke rose, thick and black
Now Henry Parsons got no place to stay
If he ever gets the nerve up to come back