American Wheeze

Yeah, I've grown tired Of the words of the single man Hangin' lifeless on his every word Oh, old man You don't understand, dear man That little angel held out her hand Sayin', "Father, Father I love you Oh, praise Jesus I've got you" Okay, yeah, billy goat And we'll play farm I didn't mean to spirit, stiff you Nor to do you no harm You say you got a bone to pick, well There's plenty showin' on me Come on up, yeah, bring your temper We'll see, we'll see Yeah, you may be the one Come on, son Bring your blade and gun And if I die By your hand I've got a home In Glory Land, yeah Oh, play for it