The Ballad Of Forty Dollars - Live At The International, Las Vegas/1970

Whoa, I'm telling you, let me see if I can do this one here
It's a fine tune written by Tom T. Hall

Hey, the man who preached at the funeral, said it really was a simple way to die
He laid down one afternoon, never even 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, I, I guess we must have drunk a case of beer

I guess I ought to go and watch them put him in the ground, but I don't own no suit
And anyway when they start talking about that old fire in hell, Jerry gets spooked
So, I'll just sit here in my truck, act like I don't know him when they pass
Anyway, when they're all through I've got to go to work and now the grass

Well, here they come and who's that riding in that big old shiny limousine
Look at all that chrome, I do believe that's the sharpest thing I've seen

That must belong to his great uncle, somebody said he owned a big old 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, would you take a look at that
Mine that's a mighty pretty dress, you know some women sure look good in black
Well, he ain't even in the ground, and they tell me 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're in the war they always had to play a song like that
Well here I am and I, I guess you'd just call Jerry Lewis bad luck
But I hope he rests in peace, the trouble is the fellow owes me forty bucks