Digital Tradition Mirror

The Drunkard's Hell

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The Drunkard's Hell

It was a dark and stormy night,
I saw and heard a awful sight;
The lightning flashed, the thunder roared
Above my dark, benighted soul.

I thought I saw that gulf below,
Where all poor dying drunkards go;
My feeling there no tongue can tell,
In this sure place of a drunkard's hell.

I went on and got there at last,
And thought I'd take a social glass;
But every time I'd stir it well,
I'd think about the drunkard's hell.

I dashed it out and left the place,
And went to seek redeeming grace;
Down on my knees to Jesus there
Poured out my soul in humble prayer.

I went on home to change my life,
And to my long neglected wife;
I found her kneeling by the bed,
Because our infant babe lay dead.

I told her not to cry and weep
Because our babe had went to sleep;
Its precious soul has fled away
To live with Christ in endless day.

I took her by her lily-white hand,
She was so weak she could not stand;
Down on our knees to Jesus there
Poured out our souls in humble prayer.

From Ozark Folksongs, Randolph
Collected from Mrs. J.C. Clanton, MO 1930
Recorded by Dalhart, Wade Mainer, Maynard Britton

Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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