The Little Lady Preacher-Tom T. Hall
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TXT The Little Lady Preacher-Tom T. Hall 文本歌词
The Little Lady Preacher - Tom T. Hall
Oh, the little lady preacher
From the limestone church
I'll never forget her, I guess
She preached each Sunday mornin'
On the local radio
With a big black Bible
And a snow-white dress
She was nineteen years of age
And was developed to a fault
But I will admit she knew the Bible well
A little white lace hanky marked the text
That she would use
She'd breathe into that microphone
And send us all to hell
She had a guitar picker
By the name of Luther Short
A hairy-legged soul, lost out in sin
She would turn and smile at Luther
When the program would commence
With a voice as sweet as angels
She would break out in a hymn
I was pickin' for her too with
What we call the doghouse bass
I clung to every word that passed her lips
She was down on booze and cigarettes
And high on days to come
And she'd punctuate the prophecy
With movements of her hips
The Lord, knows how I loved her,
He was there each time she preached
But ol' Luther took her home each Sunday morn'
Lookin' back I still recall the way
It hurt my tender pride
I longed to be a hero
But they're made not born
Sometimes ol' Luther showed up
At the studio half-tight
And smokin' was a thing he liked to do
She never said a word to him
But said a prayer for me
I told her in a way that
I'd been prayin' for her too
One Sunday her old man showed up
And said that she was gone
Said she and brother Luther had a call
I can see me standin' in
That studio that day
I had to face the heartbreak,
Unemployment and all
I don't know where they are,
'Cause I ain't seen them people since
Lord, if I judge 'em let me
Give 'em lots o' room
I know ol' Luther Short
And he's a hard ol' boy to change
And I've often sat and wondered
Who it was converted whom
