Lyrics

Blood of Jesus

I came to town last Monday morning
And I walked up to my door
And I rang upon the buzzer
But there was no one at home
I went to see my dear old mother
She told me boy your family’s gone
Your wife and your poor little children
May the good Lord forgive you son

Oh I don’t need
No fancy dining
I don’t need
No French Champaign
What I need is
The Blood of Jesus
For to wash my
My poor soul clean.

You wife had the TB fever
And the children had the same
They couldn’t pay to see no Doctor
They’re laying yonder up the Lane
Well her hair had turned to silver
And her skin faded to grey
She said we’ve had no one to help us
All those years that you’ve been away

Chorus

It was the 13th day of August
The year was nineteen fifty five
I shot John Parker in the stomach
But I don’t even remember why
Well I was still drunk in the morning
When the judge spoke to me calm
He said I guess you may be sober
After ten years on Parchman farm

© Willi Kerr 2012

© The Curst Sons 2014