Henry Parsons Died - Widespread Panic

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

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

Baptised in every creek in Georgia

Devil still calls his name

Every time he shot up, drinking holy wine

He spilled his down in shame

Everybody all over this town

Knew his reputation

All came to see him buried down in the ground

What you might call a little morbid fascination

What is everybody gonna say?