Preacher

Well, Bill was a preacher that rode into town
The town, the town, it was Russiatown
He found a lot by the cancer boy’s tomb
Across the street from Satan’s Old Saloon
Why, oh why, Ol' Bill
(Why Ol' Bill?)
Why build a ball on a hill?
With wood and nail, he hammered up a temple
To teach us sinners to live life more simple
But the kinfolk of the town, they hated his guts
With all of their hearts, and the shit from their butts!
Why, oh why, Ol' Bill
(Why Ol' Bill?)
Why build a ball on a hill?
Why, oh why, Ol' Bill
(Why Ol' Bill?)
Why build a ball on a hill?
We don’t need no preacher spitting lore!
Tellin' us we can’t drink, gamble, or whore
Don’t need your rules, boy, 'cause we got our own!
They’re writtn in blood, booze, and skeleton bons!
Burn down your church with our torches and flame
The devil had you cursed from the moment you came!
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Praise Jesus! (And the devil belongs to me!)
Go to Hell, Bill!