The Ballad Of Forty Dollars Lyrics

The Ballad Of Forty Dollars lyrics

Verse 1: 

 (Waylon) 

 The man that preached the funeral said it really was a simple way to die      
                                       He laid down to rest one afternoon and
never opened up his eyes

 They hired me and Fred and Joe to dig the grave and carry up some chairs      
                                                    It took us seven hours and I
guess we must have drunk a case of beer

 

 Verse 2: 

 (Johnny)

 I guess I ought to go and watch them put him down but I don't own a suit      
                                                         And anyway when they
start talkin' about the fire in hell I get spooked

 So let's just sit here in the truck and act like we don't know him when they
pass                                                                Anyway,
when they're all through we got to go to work and mow the grass

 

 Verse 3: 

 (Waylon then Johnny)                                                          
     

 Here they come and who's that riding in that big old shiney limousine         
                                                              Look at all that
chrome I do believe that that's the sharpest thing I've seen

 That must belong to his rich uncle someone said he owned a big old farm       
                                                             When they get
parked let's mosey down and look it over that won't do no harm

 

 Verse 4: 

 (Waylon then Johnny)                                                          
  

 That must be the widow in the car and won't you take a look at that           
                                                  That sure is a pretty dress
you know some women do look good in black

 He's not even in the ground and they tell me his truck is up for sale         
                                                          They say she took it
pretty hard but you can't tell too much behind a veil

 

 Verse 5: 

 (Waylon then Johnny) 

 Listen ain't that pretty when a bugler plays a military taps                  
                                                I think when you were in the war
they always hide and play a song like that

 Well here we are and there he goes and I guess that you might call it our bad
luck                                                                  I hope he
rests in peace but the trouble is the fellow owes us forty bucks