My driftin' memory goes back to the spring of '43
When
Whispers of ancients buried by dust,
Echoes of ages in canyons
Down in the holler there's a thriving town
A treasure trove
Tired old man you're a wastin' slowly battling grey and
Went out last night to take a little round, I
Come listen to my story, I'll tell you no lies,
Oh the lilies were laid on the marble in the
Talk about suffering here below
And let's keep a-loving Jesus.
Talk about
Oh, yonder stands the prophet, words are music to our