Tombstone Blues (Revisited)

By the sweet silver stream in old Galilee
Past farmers and fisherman tending the sea
And spreading the net of an old mystery
Stood the lovely and lonely Jesus

Out in the wilderness, no money for meat
Wild locusts and honey was all he did eat
For shoes just the gospel was shod on his feet
And called by the name John the Baptist

Now the cripples and lepers, the lame and the blind
All crowded 'round Jesus, before and behind
With a-weepin' and a-wailin' and a-moanin' and cryin'
Just to touch but the hem of his garment

Now John's in the prison, his head on a plate
Though Herod bewail it, too little, too late
He thought matters had ended for the good of his state
But the worms in his belly torment him

Well Satan's in the desert, he ain't-a-got no food
And down by the pasture he's prowlin' for you
And Christ's on the cross with the tombstone blues

Well the doctors and lawyers with their casebooks in hand
All question the Saviour and bid him to stand
While round him is rung the centurion band
To try to break all of his bones asunder

Though they scourged him and hung him upon a cruel cross
And spat on and mocked him and hailed him with taunts
Silently Christ, though bloody and gaunt
While the heavens wept darkness and thunder

Well Satan's in the desert, he ain't-a-got no food
And down by the pasture he's prowlin' for you
And Christ's on the cross with the tombstone blues

Down in the valley, the grave for a bed
And no place was found for to lay his poor head
The lowly Lord Jesus now raised from the dead
And returning in terrible glory

Hear now ye harlots, and hearken, ye thieves
And all those who now God's Holy Ghost grieve
Remember the cross all sins can relieve
And hear now the end of the story