Ballad of Forty Dollars (Words and music by Tom T. Hall) The man who preached the funeral Said it really was a simple way to die He laid down to rest one afternoon And never opened up his eyes They hired me and Fred and Joe To dig the grave and carry up some chairs It took us seven hours And I guess we must have drunk a case of beer. I guess I ought to go and watch them put 'im down But I don't own a suit And anyway when they start talkin' about The fire in Hell, well, I get spooked So, I'll just sit here in my truck And act like I don't know 'im when they pass Anyway, when they're all through I've got to go to work and mow the grass. Well, here they come and who's that Ridin' in that big ol' shiny limousine Mmh! look at all that chrome, I do believe That that's the sharpest thing I've seen That must belong to his great uncle Someone said he owned a big ol' farm When they get parked I'll mosey down and look it over, that won't do no harm. Well, that must be the widow in the car And would you take a look at that That sure is a pretty dress You know some women do look good in black Well, he's not even in the ground And they say that his truck is up for sale They say she took it pretty hard But you can't tell too much behind the veil. Well, listen ain't that pretty When the bugler plays the Military "TAPS" I think that when you's in the war They always (*hide 'n) play a song like that Well, here I am and there they go And I guess you'd just call it my bad luck I hope he rests in peace, the trouble is The fellow owes me forty bucks. Copyright Tom T. Hall GG oct97
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!