Glory Hallelujah, How They'll Sing

Up at five and done with chores, the family piles in the pickup
Meetin' at the church house all the folks from miles around
Packed between Mama and Daddy and all of the kids is a bushel basket
Headin' for an all-day country singin' and dinner on the ground
Where they’ll sing, glory hallelujah, how they’ll sing
Ladies dab their throats and brows with hand-embroidered linen
Cool their dampened feedsack bodices with cardboard fans
Fans that advertize on one side Lanie’s Funeral Parlor
While Jesus on the other side out stretches nail-scarred hands
And they’ll sing, glory hallelujah, how they’ll sing
Do mi so, la so mi do
Do re mi, fa ti do
Do mi so, la so mi do
Do re mi, fa ti do
A deacon in a white, nylon short-sleeve shirt leads the singin'
A book of matches in his pocket and a ballpoint pen
Inside the cover of the matches is the deacon’s name and address
Enrollin' in a course that’s offered to outstandin' men
And he sings, glory hallelujah, how he’ll sing
And he sings, glory hallelujah, how he’ll sing
Now, lets turn to page 34 in our Broadman hymnals
A pinned roll banded hand prepares to strike the openin' chord
A small boy whispers to his mama «Do natives go to Heaven?»
And they lift their voices to the sky, sing praises to the Lord
And they’ll sing, glory hallelujah, how they’ll sing
And they’ll sing, glory hallelujah, how they’ll sing
And they’ll sing