Ballad Of Forty Dollars Lyrics - Storyteller Poet Philosopher - 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 'I'm 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 'I'm when they pass 

Anyway, when they're all through 

I've got to go to work and mow the grass. 

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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'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 cr 

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. 

Photos 

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 call it my bad luck 

I hope he rests in peace, the trouble is 

The fellow owes me forty bucks.